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“‘SUSAN AND I ARE GOING TO WRITE A BOOK 


AND PUT YOU IN IT.’” 


CHRISTMAS TREE 
HOUSE 


BY 

MARY F. LEONARD 

AUTHOR OF ** EVERYDAY SUSAN ” 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW YORK 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


V-5 5 


Copyright, 1913, by 
Thomas Y. Crowell Company 


; 3 - 2i¥77 



©CI.A354740 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Some Sckaps of Paper 1 

11. The Story 13 

III. Miss Reynor Takes a Boarder .... 2T 

IV. Chiefly Letters S 6 

V. A Telegram 50 

VI. Hallowe’en 60 

VII. At Lily’s 77 

VIII. The Thimbles Meet 87 

IX. Trifles 96 

X. Miss Grant 105 

XL Christmas Trees 114 

XII. Holidays 126 

XHI. Things Continue to Happen 136 

XIV. The Key of the Cupboard 144 

XV. Ups and Downs 152 

XVI. Ending in Fairyland 163 

XVH. Aunt Theo and the Lions 175 

XVIII. Rex and Comus 184 

XIX. ‘‘ Yours, B. A.” 193 

XX. The Everyday World 200 

XXI. Only a Joke 214 

XXH. Bessie’s Room 225 


IV 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXIII. Sketches 230 

XXIV. The Chimney Cupboard 239 

XXV. What was Worth While 245 

XXVI. Putting Two and Two Together . 255 

XXVII. Clarice and Miss Grant 265 

XXVIII. That Summer 275 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


“ ‘ Susan and I are going to write a 

book and put you in it ’ . . Frontispiece ^ 

OPPOSITE PAGE 

“ I suppose I must have looked funny in the 

Poet’s overcoat ” 40 

“ Susan has never forgotten that afternoon ” . 100 

“ The house was perfectly beautiful in its 

Christmas decorations ” 130 ^ 

“ ‘ A party, and without me? ’ she cried ” . . 210 

“ Somebody was at hand ” 244 ^ 

‘‘ ‘ I’ll never say again that nothing can hap- 

pen’” 278 



CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


CHAPTER I 

SOME SCRAPS OE PAPER 

They sat on the stile, side by side, but fac- 
ing different ways, Susan looking down the 
lane, Holliday across the road and the meadow 
to the little bird-cage station and Reservoir 
Hill beyond. They sat in the same position, 
elbows on knees, chin in hands, and the great 
sycamore that spread its branches above them 
showered them both impartially with crumpled 
brown leaves. 

The maples and beeches showed a touch of 
color here and there, just enough to remind 
you it was October. In the fence corners the 
goldenrod was turning brown, but the breeze 
was soft and summer-like. All about, where 
two years ago there had been only fields, 
dwellings had sprung up. Some of these were 
yet unfinished, and the pleasant sound of 
carpenter’s work was in the air. Thanks to the 
1 


9 . 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


enterprise of Colonel Brand, Reservoir Park 
was a growing suburb. 

The girls had been to Mammy Ria’s to take 
her a piece of Miss Margaret’s wedding cake, 
and returning had missed their car by two or 
three minutes. Laughing and out of breath 
after their race down the lane, they had 
stopped to rest on top of the stile, while in the 
distance their car tinkled away. In silence 
they sat there, and the carpenters and a graz- 
ing cow with a bell attached to it had it all 
their own way for as much as five minutes. 
Then Holliday spoke. 

“ What are you thinking about, Susan? ” 
she asked, without moving. 

“ Probably just what you are, — Miss Mar- 
garet, and that we shall not see her for a whole 
year.” 

“ And although she is our Miss Margaret 
still, she is also Mrs. William Sidney Brand, 
which makes a difference,” Holliday added. 

** We look before and after, 

And sigh for what is not/* 

That is the verse for to-day on my calendar, 
and I feel the truth of it. We can’t help be- 


SOME SCRAPS OF PAPER 


3 


ing sad over so many changes, can we? Be- 
sides Miss Margaret, there’s your brother Joe 
in Colorado, and Miss Julia Anderson in 
Chicago, and dear little Elsie Seymour in 
Heaven.” 

And Mr. Self and the parrot,” Susan 
continued. 

“ Well, I don’t care so much about them. 
I am sure Mr. Self is better oif, and old Look- 
in-a-book, too.” 

“ Maybe they are all better off,” suggested 
Susan. “ J oe is doing splendidly, and Miss 
Julia’s husband is very rich, the Brocade 
Lady says. After all, Holliday, we ought to 
think of the blessings we have left instead of 
dwelling upon what we have lost.” 

Holliday’s laugh rippled out. “ What 
beautiful resignation, Susan! You deserve a 
reward, so I’ll tell you a piece of news. Dick 
Seymour is going to be at home this winter. 
His mother is not well and wants him.” 

‘‘ Oh, is he? ” Susan said coolly, but Holli- 
day could see the cheek next her growing 
pinker. It was still easy to tease Susan. 

‘‘ Tom Mann told me. He is to have a 
tutor so that he can enter college next year,” 


4 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


Holliday continued. Then, going back to the 
subject uppermost in their thoughts, “ Susan, 
what did Miss Margaret say to you? ” 

“When do you mean? Specially to me? 
Why — I don’t know.” 

“ I’ll write to her that you have forgotten 
everything she said. Nonsense, Susan! I 
know what she said to me.” 

“ What? ” 

“ I shan’t tell unless you will.” 

“ Well, go on.” 

“ She said she hoped we should not for- 
get the Wise Man, this winter,” Holliday be- 
gan. 

Susan nodded. “Yes, of course; she said 
that to me.” 

“ You know how lovely and soft her voice 
can be, Susan? Well, she went on to say that 
it was harder for me than for you.” 

“ I don’t see why. You can see him every 
Sunday, now they have put his tablet in the 
church wall.” 

“ Because, Susan, you are more of a nat- 
ural digger than I, besides being cleverer.” 

“ Miss Margaret didn’t say that, I know.” 
Susan insisted. 


SOME SCRAPS OF PAPER 5 

Well, then, I say it. And she took my 
face between her hands and looked straight 
into my eyes, and said she knew I cared a 
great deal for fun, that I was bright and 
charming, — I wouldn’t tell this to anybody but 
you, Susan, — and that I was in danger of 
being spoiled. She said I could have admira- 
tion with very little effort ; then she asked very 
solemnly if I was going to be content to be 
just a butterfly. For a minute I felt solemn 
and embarrassed, and then before I knew it 
I was laughing and saying that if I must be 
any sort of insect I’d try to be a busy bee. I 
don’t know what possesses me, Susan, but 
when people are very grave I always feel like 
laughing.” 

Susan smiled, for this was so like Holliday. 
‘‘ Go on,” she said. What else? ” 

“ She didn’t laugh at all,” continued Holli- 
day, “ but looked hurt, which I couldn’t 
stand, of course ; so I hugged her and said I’d 
be a mole and dig through to China, to please 
her. She laughed a little then, and said she 
only wished me to be myself, — my best self. 
It made me wonder how many I have.” 

“ I have three,” said Susan, “ best, second 


6 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


best, and worst; but you have ever so many, 
Holliday. 

“Do you think so?” Holliday gazed 
dreamily at the dusty road. “ It was rather 
nice to have her say I was charming.” 

How could any one help saying it? Susan 
wondered. Holliday was growing tall, but 
there seemed to be no awkward age for her. 
The plain blue sailor suit, with its linen col- 
lar and cuffs, that she wore to-day seemed the 
one style of dress to emphasize her beauty; 
yet it was so with everything she put on. 

“ Well, Holliday, I’m sure you are,” she 
answered, at length, laying her hand on her 
friend’s arm. 

Holliday took possession of the hand and 
pressed it against her cheek. “ Thank you, 
Susan, though it did take you a good while to 
say it. For that matter, so are you.” 

“ Oh, no, I’m not. Some people like me, 
of course, and I suppose I have my good 
points, as Joe would say, but — ” 

“You have lovely eyes, Susan, and dark 
blue are far more unusual than brown, like 
mine. You are a darling sort of person, 
and when people don’t like you it is be- 


SOME SCRAPS OF PAPER 7 

cause you won’t let them,” Holliday concluded 
wisely. 

Miss Margaret had said much the same 
thing to her. “ You shut yourself into your 
shell, your Shyness, and just peep out at the 
world, and are a little cold and critical. Oh, 
I know all about the diffidence, but my Susan 
can overcome that if she will.” To be cold 
and critical seemed worse than being a but- 
terfly. Susan had a throb of envy at the 
thought that Miss Margaret liked Holliday 
best, but it quickly passed. She was too gen- 
erous and true a friend to harbor such a 
thought for more than a minute. 

“ Susan,” Holliday began, after another 
pause, “ let’s make a story out of the winter, 
for Miss Margaret. You know she asked us 
to keep a record of all we do and all that hap- 
pens.” 

“ I am sure there isn’t anything left to hap- 
pen. We shall probably spend the rest of 
our days in uneventful quiet.” 

“ Uneventful quiet is good. As Miss Grant 
says, you express yourself remarkably well, 
Susan. Lend me your pencil for fear I for- 
get it. It can go in the first chapter.” 


8 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


With Susan’s little silver pencil Holliday 
scribbled “ uneventful quiet ” on her cuif. 
Susan protested, suggesting that it might not 
wash out. 

‘‘ It probably will,” Holliday answered 
carelessly. “You remember, Susan, that 
once before you said there was nothing left to 
happen. It may turn out just as it did then.” 

A little later, as they walked down the road 
to the station, she added in a burst of high 
spirits, “ Susan, things shall happen this win- 
ter; we’ll make them. To begin with, I am 
going to have a Hallowe’en party. Papa says 
I may. I hope Dick wiU get here in time for 
it.” 

“ He said he would be here the last of the 
month. I had a letter from him,” Susan said 
demurely. 

“ If you aren’t the sliest puss! Why didn’t 
you tell me? ” Holliday laughed. “ You must 
help me think what we shall do. It is to 
be a small party, because we can have more 
fun.” 

This opened such a field for discussion, that 
the two girls were scarcely conscious of any- 
thing else as they took their seats in the car. 


SOME SCRAPS OF PAPER 


9 


Other passengers got on and off, but they paid 
no attention until at the city limits a tall, dis- 
tinguished-looking man entered the car. At 
least Holliday thought him distinguished- 
looking. They might not have noticed him, 
but for her chatelaine bag which she was care- 
lessly swinging to and fro as she talked, and 
which slipped from her fingers and fell at his 
feet. 

He stooped for it and presented it with a 
very elaborate courtesy, that caused the color 
to surge into Susan’s cheeks, for she was some- 
how sure he thought Holliday had dropped it 
purposely. 

Holliday thanked him, smiling in her girl- 
ish, friendly way, quite unconscious, and the 
stranger sat down several seats in front of 
them, glancing back once or twice. Susan 
tried not to look at him, but as he was directly 
in front of her it was hard not to do so. How- 
ever, he presently took a letter from his breast 
pocket, glanced over it, and then began to tear 
it up and toss the pieces out of the open car 
window. By a curious chance some of these 
scraps, caught by the wind and blown back 
into Susan’s window, fell in her lap. 


10 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


Holliday was telling her about a party one 
of her cousins in New Orleans had given, and 
while she listened, Susan idly fitted these scraps 
together like a dissected puzzle. Before she 
thought what she was doing she had a sentence: 
“ It will be worth while if it takes a year. 
Yours, B. A.” In the meantime the stranger 
had left the car. 

“ Susan! how funny! ” Holliday exclaimed. 

“ I suppose I ought not to have done it,” said 
Susan, apologetically. 

“ I shouldn’t mind. It was his own fault, 
and it can’t do any harm. But what do you 
imagine is worth while? I can’t help wonder- 
ing. Don’t you think he has an interesting 
face? ” 

Susan did not agree with her, and said so, 
even going so far as to insist he was like 
Monsieur Rigaud in “ Little Dorrit,” with 
his waxed mustache, and that Holliday need 
not have smiled so when she thanked him. 

“ As if a person could tell how much she 
was smiling,” Holliday cried indignantly. 
“ You are worse than Aunt Nan, Susan.” 

Susan was about to toss the scraps out of 
the window again when Holliday rescued them 


SOME SCRAPS OF PAPER 


11 


and dropped them into her bag. “ Just for 
fun I’m going to keep them. This may be the 
beginning of an adventure, for all we know,” 
she said. 

They got off at Browinski’s corner, Holli- 
day having decided she could not live through 
the evening without some sweet chocolate, and 
after she had made her purchase they walked 
along North Street, past Christmas Tree 
House. It looked dignified and haughty, all 
bolted and barred as it was, quite as if, Susan 
said, it had made up its mind not to be in the 
story. 

Holliday glanced up regretfully at the lofty 
pillars. “ What good times we would have 
there this winter if Miss Margaret were at 
home! Miss Reynor says there are lots of 
interesting old things stored away that Mrs. 
Carrol allowed to go with the house when she 
sold it to Colonel Brand. Things he has never 
looked at.” 

“ I heard the Brocade Lady talking to 
Mother about Mrs. Carrol’s will,” said Susan. 
“ You know she left some money to her old 
servants and some of her friends, some lace 
and silver to Aline Arthur, and everything else 


n CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

for a children’s ward in the new hospital; but 
she said it was doubtful if there would be more 
than enough to endow a bed.” 

As they were separating at the corner, 
Holliday exclaimed, Susan Maxwell, you 
didn’t tell me one word that Miss Margaret 
said to you! ” 

Susan laughed. ‘‘You didn’t give me a 
chance,” she answered. 


CHAPTER II 


THE STORY 

Mrs. Boone said it took a deatK or a 
wedding to show you how many friends you 
had. Certainly Miss Kennedy was surprised 
and touched at the many evidences of regard 
and affection that came to her at the time of 
her marriage. Her sweetness and charm, as 
well as the courageous way in which she had 
met her troubles, had gained her the admiration 
of many people who, until then, had found no 
way of expressing it, and flowers and gifts 
descended upon her in something like an 
avalanche. 

If Colonel Brand had not been so happy, he 
might have become sensitive at being so often 
told that he was a lucky man. The Brocade 
Lady stoutly maintained that Margaret was 
just as lucky as he. To be sure, he was twenty 
years her senior, but in some respects he was 
young for his years, and she prophesied he 
would grow younger. 

13 


u 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


The improvements at St. Mark’s, which had 
done away with that queer basement room 
where Miss Margaret held her little school for 
two winters, were completed just in time for 
the wedding, — a very quiet one with only 
her intimate friends present, and her adoring 
pupils, as bridesmaids, grouped about her. 
After the ceremony a reception was given by 
Mrs. Boone, who as an old friend of Margaret’s 
parents begged for the privilege. The Sey- 
mours, Margaret’s only relatives, were abroad, 
detained in Paris by the illness of Mrs. Sey- 
mour; the Brocade Lady’s cottage was not 
large and her son a nervous invalid; so Mrs. 
Boone gayly declared herself next in succes- 
sion. 

She loved to entertain; to feed people was 
her greatest delight, and Dr. Mann used to 
say that to her, seconded by Browinski, he 
owed a good deal of his practice. On this occa- 
sion they both outdid themselves, and the 
beauty of the bride’s table has never been for- 
gotten by those who saw it. 

Miss Margaret, in white satin and lovely 
old lace which had belonged to her grand- 
mother, was enveloped in a new and myste- 


THE STORY 


15 


rious charm which made one feel a little in awe 
of her, Susan thought, watching her in a sort 
of dream and forgetting her own supper. In- 
deed, the four girls had basked in romance to 
such an extent that it seemed almost hopeless 
to bring them down to everyday life and les- 
sons again. 

Although Miss Margaret and the Colonel 
had disappeared under a shower of rice on 
Wednesday evening, and this was Saturday 
morning, Susan as she dusted the dining-room 
was going over again every detail of the wed- 
ding, and was doing a number of absent- 
minded things in consequence. When she came 
to the bookcase, it struck her that her shelf 
needed rearranging, and when she opened the 
doors a little blue Longfellow tumbled out. 
It had been displaced yesterday in a hurried 
search for something else; now it lay meekly 
at her feet as if to remind her that once it had 
been a favorite, only to be crowded out of her 
affection by the “ Library of Poetry and 
Song ’’ and ‘‘ Lucile.” 

*‘Our to-days and yesterdays 
Are the blocks with which we build,” 

she read as she picked it up. It had fallen 


16 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


open at “ The Builders,” which had served 
Holliday a good turn in her composition about 
the Wise Man’s grave, the first winter at 
school. 

“ It suits our story exactly,” Susan said to 
herself ; “ Our to-days and yesterdays are what 
we are to write about. We might change it 
to : ‘ For the story that we tell, time is with 
materials filled.’ ” She was dreaming over this, 
her elbows on the desk-top, her duster lying 
idle, when the door opened to admit Holliday. 

“ Well, Susan Hermione, what are you 
thinking about? ” she demanded, dropping 
down in the big leather chair, from which she 
displaced Wynkyns. 

Susan waked up and began explaining and 
dusting at the same time. 

Holliday interrupted her in the midst of it. 
“ Now, Susan Maxwell, don’t go and point 
any moral about keeping our days beautiful, — 

‘ Be good, dear child,’ and all that, for you 
know that stories are perfectly stupid with 
everybody good and no villains ! ” 

She sat on the edge of the chair and spoke 
with such vehemence, that Wynk, who had 
jumped into her lap, stretched his neck and 


THE STORY 


n 


licked her cheek with a rough red tongue. 
Holliday pushed him from her with an ex- 
clamation of disgust. 

Susan laughed. “ You need not glare at me 
like an accusing angel when it’s all your own 
idea. I hadn’t thought of a moral.” 

“You would have come around to it in a 
minute,” her friend insisted, rubbing her cheek, 
“ for you do love morals, Susan.” 

“ Well, it is rather a nice idea when you think 
of it,” she answered, shaking her duster out of 
the open window. “ I don’t mean making our 
days beautiful, since you object, but thinking 
of them as blocks to build our story out of.” 

“ It seems to me you are mixing things. 
You don’t build stories with blocks, you 
write them on pages. ‘ Our to-days are the 
pages — ’ ” 

At this moment a man came in at the side 
gate, and, seeing Susan, handed her a package 
through the window. It was a square, heavy 
package, addressed to Miss Susan Maxwell. 

“ What can it be? ” she wondered, laying ii 
on Holliday’s knees. 

“ It’s heavy and feels like a box,” said Holli-^ 
day. 


18 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


While they were lifting and feeling and 
wondering, Mrs. Maxwell came in and sug- 
gested that it might be as well to open it and 
settle the question. 

“You see, it may be only something stupid, 
and it is such fun to guess, Mrs. Maxwell,” 
Holliday explained. 

The interest of guessing failed after a little, 
and curiosity won the day. Susan clipped the 
stout cord and removed the wrappings, and lo ! 
there appeared a ream of white paper in large 
sheets such as are used in a typewriter. 

For a moment they gazed at each other 
blankly; then Holliday cried, clapping her 
hands, “ Our to-days and yesterdays, Susan! 
Don’t you see? ” 

“ Yes, I see,” said Susan, as the box slipped 
from Holliday’s lap, sending the loose sheets 
of paper far and wide. 

“ Now, isn’t that like me! Go on with your 
work, and I will pick them up. Of course Miss 
Margaret ordered it, to remind us of our 
story.” Holliday sat on the floor and began 
gathering in all the sheets that were within her 
reach. 

“ What in the world is Holliday doing? ” 


THE STORY 


19 


asked Charlie Willard, looking in at the open 
window. 

“ I should think you might see,” that young 
lady retorted. 

“ Pardon me. Miss Heywood. I should have 
asked what you are going to do with that paper 
after you have picked it up.” Charlie swung 
himself in. “ Here’s a pattern Mother bor- 
rowed,” he said to Susan, and then began to 
fish out the leaves from under the table. 

“ Thank you, Charlie. Susan and I are go- 
ing to write a book and put you in it.” 

“ Me?— I? ” cried Charlie. 

Susan frowned. Holliday would go and tell 
things, always. 

“Am I to be the hero?” Charlie asked 
modestly. 

Holliday gazed at him thoughtfully, the tip 
of her tongue touching her upper lip. “ Who 
will be our hero, do you suppose, Susan? ” 

Susan hadn’t thought about it. “I don’t 
believe it will be Charlie,” she added, laugh- 
ing. 

“ Oh, of course I have no chance now Dick 
is coming home,” Charlie declared, pretending 
to be downcast. 


20 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


‘‘We shall need a villain to make it interest- 
ing, Susan,'’ Holliday suggested. 

“ When I am helping you, too! I call that 
shabby," said Charlie, pretending to be very 
downcast. 

“ What is shabby? " inquired Lily Boone, 
standing in the door. “ How are you, Susan? 
Charlie, your mother said to tell you to meet 
her at Carr’s at eleven.’’ Lily seated herself 
on the sofa and looked at Holliday. “ What 
are you going to do with all that paper? ’’ she 
wished to know. 

“ Write a book and put you in it.’’ 

“ Oh, not really, Holliday, — you aren’t," 
Lily exclaimed, appearing rather pleased, how- 
ever, as she settled herself with numberless pats 
and smoothings, and regarded Holliday with 
wide-open eyes. 

Holliday gazed back at her critically. 
“ She’d make a good illustration, Susan.’’ 

“ A real Christmas-tree ornament, isn’t 
she?’’ said Charlie, who loved to tease his 
pretty cousin. 

“ I’m not at all, Charlie Willard," Lily cried 
in injured tones. 

“ Do you notice how often Lily Ann looks 


THE STORY 


at the ceiling? ” he continued. ‘‘ Well, she 
isn’t looking for cobwebs, but she read some- 
where that eyes turned heavenward are al- 
ways beautiful.” 

Holliday threw the box lid at him. “ Do 
behave yourself, Charlie. I wouldn’t mind 
him, Lily,” she added, for the blue eyes showed 
signs of tears. ‘‘ Here comes Bessie. Hear 
her ask the same question.” 

Naturally, as Holliday still sat on the floor 
with the paper in her lap, Bessie’s first words 
were a question in regard to it. 

Holliday answered promptly, “ Susan and I 
are going to write a story and put you in it.” 

What do you mean? I don’t want to be in 
a story.” Bessie invariably met any plan with 
objections. She stood by the table, looking 
down at Holliday, her lips tightly closed. 

“ That is too bad,” Holliday responded 
sweetly, “ for the only way you can keep out 
of it is to leave town. Of course you can be a 
minor character, Bessie.” 

Charlie laughed, and Lily asked, ‘‘ Why 
don’t you want to? They are going to have 
illustrations.” 

“ Lily Ann, my simple cousin, I hate to leave 


22 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


you, but duty calls,” exclaimed Charlie, rising. 
“ Thanks again for that kind suggestion about 
the villain. Miss Heywood. I’ll get even.” 

“ It seems to me you fitted the cap to your 
own head,” replied that young person, coolly. 

When Charlie had gone, the girls fell to talk- 
ing about their new teacher. Miss Grant. 
After much discussion it had been decided by 
their elders that the four girls should share 
during the coming winter the instructions of a 
visiting governess in their English studies, with 
lessons in French from Monsieur Laval. Miss 
Grant was as different from Miss Margaret as 
possible, being a large, capable, breezy person, 
with a plain, kindly face, whom it was impos- 
sible to dislike but about whom, as Holliday ex- 
pressed it, you could never be wild. 

The class met at the Heywoods’, but in the 
excitement and interest of the wedding had not 
settled down to real work as yet. Miss Grant 
had been lenient, but warned them she expected 
them to begin in earnest on Monday. 

“ It is going to be different this winter,” said 
Bessie, with a sigh. “You had to study for 
Miss Margaret because you couldn’t bear to 
disappoint her.” 


THE STORY 


23 


“ The Brocade Lady says it will be just as 
well for us to learn to do right because it is 
right and not just to please Miss Margaret/’ 
added Susan. 

“ Mr. Bright said that love was the highest 
motive in the world, and I rather think he 
knows as much as the Brocade Lady,” Holli- 
day insisted. 

“ Well,” remarked Lily, rather acutely for 
her, “ we can still go on doing things for Miss 
Margaret. I am sure she wants us to.” 

“ It will be a reflection on her if we don’t do 
well, I suppose,” Holliday assented. 

Bessie and Lily left presently, and Susan 
and HoUiday settled themselves to study their 
history lesson; but in the middle of the first 
page, Holliday remembered a letter from 
Clarice Dumont which the postman had 
handed to her at the gate. 

“ It is an awfully interesting letter, Susan, 
and I only half read it ; and now I have thought 
of it I shall not be able to do my history tiU I 
get it off my mind.” 

Holliday’s fondness for Clarice was one of 
the things Susan couldn’t understand. To her 
Clarice seemed rather silly. She was seventeen 


24 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


and regarded herself as a grown young lady. 
Her manners were patronizing, and her con- 
versation almost exclusively concerned her love 
affairs. Susan did not wish to appear un- 
sympathetic, however, so she put down her 
book and asked what the letter was about. 

“ I won’t read the first of it, but there is 
something she says about a man. Let me see — 
here it is.” 

In her search for what she wished to read, 
the first page of the letter slipped from her 
fingers. Susan, stooping to get it, saw that it 
began “ Holliday darling,” and resented it. 
Did Holliday call Clarice “darling”? she 
wondered. 

“ You know,” explained Holliday, “ she has 
been at Warm Springs with her aunt for a 
month. That is where she met him. She says : 
‘ — I feel I have met my fate. All my other 
affairs seem childish in the light of this. He 
is much older than I, but divinely handsome. 
His manners are perfect, he talks brilliantly.’ ” 

“ I shouldn’t think he’d care for Clarice. 
She isn’t brilliant,” Susan couldn’t resist say- 
ing. 

Holliday looked at her severely. “ I think 


THE STORY 


25 


her letters are very interesting,” she said 
firmly, “ but I won’t read you any more.” 

Susan insisted that she didn’t mind hearing 
it, but Holliday folded her letter and put it in 
her history book. “ I don’t feel like studying,” 
she said. “I think I’ll go home;” and she 
went off presently, leaving Susan uncom- 
fortable. 

I don’t care, I do think Clarice is silly,” she 
said to herself. Yet she was conscious of a 
desire to hear the rest of it. 

Nearly an hour later, just as she was closing 
her book, two hands were clapped over her eyes 
from behind. It was Holliday who had stolen 
in unperceived. 

What a good, good girl you are ! ” she ex- 
claimed. “ I have been upstairs all this time 
talking to your mother.” 

“ Why, Holliday Heywood,” cried Susan, 
‘‘ I thought you were cross and went home. 
You always do the thing I don’t expect.” 

‘‘ I do things I don’t expect to do myself,” 
said Holliday, “ but I didn’t like your talking 
as if Clarice were feeble-minded.” 

Susan hastened to disclaim any such extreme 
opinion as this, but Holliday wouldn’t listen. 


26 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


“ I suppose Clarice is a goose. I read her 
letter to your mother.” 

Susan stared in amazement. Read such 
stuff to Mother! 

“ She said it did not sound like the real 
thing, though no doubt Clarice thought she was 
in love. She said, — oh, I don’t know, — she 
said a lot, but your mother is sympathetic, 
Susan. She said now was the time for com- 
radeship, and the better friends we were now, 
the better lovers we would make when the time 
came.” 


CHAPTER III 


MISS REYNOK TAKES A BOARDER 

The Reynors lived on North Street, next to 
Christmas Tree House. There were in the 
family only Miss Cornelia and her brother 
Reginald, known to Susan as the Poet, and for 
two persons they had a good deal more room 
than they needed. If there had been enough 
money to keep it up in the style so dear to Miss 
Cornelia’s heart, this would not have mattered. 
“ It is my ambition,” she said, “ to have every- 
thing as it was in dear mother’s lifetime.” This 
meant fresh paint every three or four years, 
besides the other repairs constantly demanded 
by an old house. It meant also at least two 
maids, and a man to keep the brass bright, 
the windows polished, and the outside stones 
whitened, not to mention the garden. 

The effort to live as dear mother did was 
beginning to tell on Miss Cornelia; little fine 
lines were showing on her forehead and around 
her eyes. She was naturally a plump, rosy 
person, with curling hair and a chuckling 
27 


28 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


laugh, quite the opposite of the Poet, who was 
very tall and abnormally thin. 

Their once comfortable income had shrunk 
alarmingly of late, and now it was no longer 
supplemented by the board of their old aunt. 
Miss Polly Reynor, who had made her home 
with them for years, and then at her death left 
everything she had to charity. 

Miss Cornelia bravely contended that a per- 
son had a right to do as she pleased with her 
own, but it was a blow, nevertheless. She 
couldn’t bear to trouble Reggie. She was 
aware of the general opinion that she spoiled 
her brother; but if true, there was excuse for it. 
A severe illness in early childhood had all but 
wrecked his nervous system and kept him an 
invalid for years. When other boys were de- 
veloping courage and initiative in aU sorts of 
rough-and-tumble games, Reginald was of 
necessity carefully guarded from all excite- 
ment and overexertion. As he grew older his 
health was slowly regained, so that he was able 
to go through college ; but he seemed quite un- 
fitted for an active business or professional life, 
and after several attempts he had given up and 
retired to his library to study and write. 


MISS REYNOR TAKES A BOARDER 29 


Miss Cornelia, who was ten years older and 
not gifted in any way, was extremely proud of 
her brother’s verses, which had found a place 
in some of the best magazines. She failed at 
times to make head or tail of them, but admired 
them none the less. 

Miss Cornelia often referred to herself as not 
at all clever, meaning that she did not care for 
books; but when it came to domestic affairs, 
not Mrs. Boone herself was better authority. 
So it happened that the Brocade Lady stopped 
in one morning on her way from market to 
consult her about the chilli sauce she was going 
to make. They sat on the side porch. Miss 
Cornelia in her blue percale and white-ruffled 
apron, the Brocade Lady in ample skirts and 
shady bonnet ; and after the question of spices 
had been settled the talk drifted to other mat- 
ters, chiefly concerning the neighborhood. 

“ The last time I saw you, you were think- 
ing of giving Mattie up,” the Brocade Lady 
remarked, ‘‘ and it occurred to me afterward 
that the Seymours would probably be glad to 
get her.” 

I did think of it,” Miss Reynor replied 
hesitatingly, “ but I have made other plans. 


30 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


I fear it will seem very rash to you, but — ^well, 
I am going to take a boarder.” 

“ You might do worse,” the Brocade Lady 
told her. “ I only hope your experiment will 
turn out as well as mine.” 

‘‘ Oh — Margaret Kennedy! That was dif- 
ferent. Still, I really believe it was prov- 
idential. The only trouble is I don’t know 
what Reggie will think. He is away this 
week.” 

‘‘ I shouldn’t worry too much about that. 
Reggie’s thoughts thus far haven’t been very 
remunerative,” the Brocade Lady remarked 
coolly. 

Miss Cornelia flushed a little. “ Really good 
poetry doesn’t pay very well,” she said, “ but 
dear Mother always felt that Reginald would 
do something with his talents some day.” 

“ I shan’t dispute that; but tell me about 
your boarder.” 

“ It really was odd the way it happened,” 
said Miss Reynor. “ I was just on the point 
of telling Mattie to look out for another home, 
when she brought me a card: ‘ Mr. Edmund 
Clarence Lemoyne.’ He wished to see me on 
business, she said, and I thought it must be 


MISS REYNOR TAKES A BOARDER 31 


something about taxes. You know how they 
are always turning up to annoy you. Then I 
saw ‘ Mobile/ in the corner of his card, and 
decided he was a book agent, most likely. 
However, I went down, and really I never in 
my life met a more courteous and elegant 
gentleman. He was most apologetic. He felt 
that he was in a way intruding, he said, but he 
had a note from Mrs. Thomas to support him. 
He went on to say he was a stranger in town, 
but expected to spend most of the winter here, 
and as he disliked hotel life was anxious to 
find some private family where there were no 
other boarders, where he could spend three 
months or so. He had a letter to the Thomases 
from some relative of theirs in Mobile, and 
when he spoke of wanting a boarding-place 
Annie Thomas thought of me. She said in her 
note she hoped I would not think her presum- 
ing, and I don’t, although I was surprised.” 

“ And you agreed to take him? ” asked the 
Brocade Lady. 

“ Well, you see from the very start it seemed 
to me providential. I had to do something, 
and he was willing to pay well. His board 
will more than pay the servants, and I shall 


32 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


have to spend very little extra on the table. 
Then, as I say, his manners were so charming, 
and he was so delighted with the house, — so 
appreciative, — that I couldn’t resist. He pre- 
ferred this part of town, too. He was going 
up to Cincinnati for a week and wanted the 
matter settled before he left. I think he said 
he was engaged in literary work, — something 
about Southern Homes. I trust he and Reggie 
will be congenial. Do you think me very 
rash? ” Miss Cornelia ended anxiously. 

‘‘ In the light of what you say it does not 
seem so. A gentleman, a friend of the Thom- 
ases, engaged in literary work, — all sounds 
well. It will be good for both of you to have 
some one in the house, besides.” 

Miss Cornelia herself felt this. She was 
eminently sociable, while her brother often sat 
through a meal without uttering a word. It 
would be good for Reggie and most agreeable 
to her to have a pleasant, talkative person such 
as Mr. Lemoyne presumably was, at the table. 
Her hospitable soul warmed to the task of 
making her guest, as she preferred to call him, 
comfortable. She would give him the blue 
room, which was particularly pleasant in win- 


MISS REYNOR TAKES A BOARDER 33 


ter, with its sunny outlook upon the garden 
of Christmas Tree House. 

With her brother’s return, unhappily, a 
change came over the spirit of her dreams. 
She had feared some opposition, but, as she 
told the Brocade Lady later, Reggie was 
positively hostile to Mr. Lemoyne. He had 
met the gentleman at the Club, where he was 
introduced by Dr. Thomas, and had found him 
thoroughly objectionable. 

“ I am surprised that you should have been 
imposed upon by such blarney, Cornelia. If I 
am any judge of human nature that man is a 
cad,” he declared. 

At this Miss Reynor’s tears overflowed. “ I 
felt I had to do something,” she murmured. 

“ Very well. I’ll say no more. I realize that 
being such a dismal failure, I am not in a 
position to assert myself. However, Mr. 
Fairbanks has given me a job on his paper,” 
the Poet smiled faintly at the word he used, 
“ so I shall not be wholly a burden, if I make 
good, though the remuneration is not large.” 

Miss Cornelia’s tears fell faster. “ Oh, 
Reggie, don’t talk like that. You aren’t a 
failure or a burden. What we have is as much 


84 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


yours as mine. It is only that real poetry 
doesn’t pay. If you wish. I’ll write to Annie 
Thomas that we can’t take Mr. Lemoyne, and 
get her to explain.” 

“ As you have committed yourself, I sup- 
pose we must make the best of it for the win- 
ter,” said Reginald, relenting. “ But another 
time I’ll be obliged to you, Cornelia, if you 
will consult me before taking any such step.” 
Never had the Poet been known thus to as- 
sert himself. His sister’s eyes followed him 
in astonishment, as he left the room. 

It quickly got abroad that Miss Reynor’s 
boarder was a friend of the Thomases, and it 
was so easy and natural a thing to believe, 
that no one questioned it. Even Mrs. Thomas 
herself, after one or two attempts at explana- 
tion, let it go without contradiction. The truth 
was she had never seen or heard of Mr. 
Lemoyne before the day when the Doctor 
brought him home to dinner. The letter he 
presented was from a friend from whom she 
had not heard for years, and who was at pres- 
ent abroad. It represented Mr. Lemoyne as 
engaged in literary pursuits, and particularly 
interested in Southern architecture, and asked 


MISS REYNOR TAKES A BOARDER 35 


that they would further his work in any way 
possible. 

Whatever Miss Cornelia may have meant 
by its being providential, it is certain that the 
sudden advent of this objectionable stranger 
into his home acted as a spur to the not over- 
energetic Poet. When he accepted Mr. 
Bright’s offer of the church organ during the 
absence of the regular organist, it was rather 
as a pleasure and recreation; but this was 
not all. 

“ I understand Mr. Seymour is looking 
around for a tutor for his son,” the rector said 
one day. “ Why don’t you apply, Reynor? ” 

The Poet shrank. “ I haven’t any gift for 
teaching,” he answered. 

‘‘ How do you know you haven’t? Any- 
how, coaching a boy like Dick is not like teach- 
ing school. You could do it, and it would pay 
you.” 

The Poet saw his beloved leisure slipping 
away from him, and himself degenerating into 
a Jack-of-all-trades. He sighed, but a day or 
two later, meeting Mr. Bright, he said, If 
you think you can conscientiously recommend 
me. Bright, would you mind sounding Mr. 
Seymour? ” 


CHAPTER IV 


CHIEFLY LETTERS 

Darling Miss Margaret, — 

I little guessed what I should have to tell 
you in my steamer letter. Susan said the other 
day when we were talking about all that had 
happened, that she guessed we were destined to 
spend the rest of our days in uneventful quiet. 
Neither of us dreamed what a mockery the 
words would seem, for last Thursday night our 
house burned down. Not down, exactly, but 
most of the inside. I am still so excited when 
I think of it, my hand is trembly. I am writing 
at the desk in the Maxwells’ dining-room with 
Susan’s pen, and I have on some of Lily’s 
clothes. But, as they say in stories, this is 
anticipating. I’ll go back to Wednesday, 
which seems more like a year ago. We were 
getting ready for Aunt Nan, who, you know, 
needs a great deal of room. I had stayed in the 
guest chamber while mine was being papered, 
and some of my summer things were there; so 
86 


CHIEFLY LETTERS 


37 


Gertie thought she would pack them away in 
the third-story press. It is a dark place, or 
rather was, and she had a candle. We think 
she must have left it, though she says she didn’t, 
for the fire began near the roof, and may have 
smoldered for hours. 

While she was busy upstairs, I put all my 
drawers and shelves in most beautiful order. 
I slaved for hours. Miss Margaret, and when I 
was through they looked like Susan’s. I was 
so proud I kept going back and opening the 
armoire and the bureau to feast my eyes. I 
thought how if I were to die that night people 
would admire my orderliness, and perhaps 
mention it on my tombstone. As it turned out, 
I shall never get any credit for it. Susan 
says hereafter I will always say, “ What’s the 
use? The house may burn down,” when I am 
reproached for my disorder. 

I was so tired I went to bed early, and it 
seemed about a minute afterwards, when I 
heard Papa calling me. It was really about 
two o’clock in the morning. He was standing 
by my bed and said very quietly and sternly, 
‘‘ Holliday, get up at once and dress. The 
house is on fire.” Then he went to call the 


38 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


servants, and said he would come back for me 
and that I must make haste and not be 
frightened. I really think if he had not been 
so calm it would have been better. I was not 
frightened, I only thought what Susan and I 
had decided to do in case of fire. We once 
heard Colonel Brand say that people rarely 
ever save the things they value most, so we 
wrote down what we would do. In the 
first place I had determined to save my 
jewel case, with Mamma’s miniature and my 
ruby ring, and the fan Uncle Lawrie brought 
from India. So I put on my slippers and ran 
to the bureau and pulled out the drawer where 
I have kept them for years, and they weren’t 
there ! 

I was frantic then. I couldn’t imagine what 
had become of them, and tossed everything this 
way and that, searching for them, when sud- 
denly I remembered that in my cleaning up I 
had decided to keep my valuables in one of the 
drawers of the chiffonier. There they were, 
after I had found the key which I had put 
between the leaves of my prayer book, for safe 
keeping. Well, I crammed them and every- 
thing else in sight into the bag I had had out at 


CHIEFLY LETTERS 


39 


Lily’s, which Gertie had forgotten to put away. 
And then I began to hear shouting and the 
engines puffing, and I realized that the room 
was getting full of smoke. 

I remembered then that Papa had said to get 
dressed and I thought of my long coat, but 
it wasn’t in the armoire. Gertie had changed 
it to the press in the hall. When I opened the 
door into the hall the smoke was terrible, and 
I could see tiny flames creeping around the 
third-story stairs. That frightened me, and I 
ran back, and couldn’t think what to do and 
probably I should have burned up if Papa had 
not come rushing back. He wrapped a blanket 
around me, picked me up, and put me out of 
the window of his room on to the veranda 
roof, and a fireman carried me down a 
ladder. 

Mr. Reynor was there in the front yard and 
made me put on his overcoat, and wanted to 
take me to their house, and everybody in the 
neighborhood asked me; but I said, “ Take me 
to Susan’s.” Fortunately Dr. Mann came by 
in his buggy, and he took Gertie and me in and 
brought us over here. Mr. Maxwell was at the 
gate on his way to the fire, and Mrs. Maxwell 


40 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


came running down in her dressing-gown, 
when she heard our voices. 

Susan was the most surprised person you 
ever saw. She heard the noise, — for Gertie did 
carry on dreadfully, — and came out into the 
hall just as I got to the head of the stairs. I 
suppose I must have looked funny in the Poet’s 
overcoat with my hair tumbling down, and only 
bedroom slippers on my bare feet. I said, 
“ Well, Miss Maxwell, how is this for unevent- 
ful quiet?” 

Mrs. Maxwell made me drink some horrid 
beef tea, and Silvy kindled a fire and then took 
Gertie down to her room, and Susan and I sat 
in a big chair with a blanket around us and 
watched till the fiames, which we could see ver}^ 
plainly, had died away. Papa came in looking 
like I don’t know what, all black with smoke, 
and said the silver and a good many things on 
the first fioor had been saved. By this time it 
was light, but we went to bed and Susan and 
I slept till nine o’clock. 

Gertie brought our breakfast up to us, and 
while we were eating I suddenly remembered 
that all I had to put on, besides my robe de 
nuit and my slippers, was a pair of white 



“I SUPPOSE I MUST HAVE LOOKED FUNNY IN THE 
POET’S OVERCOAT.” 










it. 'r 


U . 




tsCmm^w 


»• -;>• 7 ■ 7, • ^.Wi ■-! *, : 7' 

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/. 




lV<v 

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CHIEFLY LETTERS 


41 


gloves. I had held on to my bag, so my jewel 
case was safe, which I was glad of, and I had 
saved my best handkerchiefs, my church enve- 
lopes, and the gloves. I began to laugh and 
then to cry, for really it is dreadful to have 
nothing to wear. In the midst of my despair 
Lily came in like a ministering angel. Her 
grandmother had sent her with Columbus and 
two dress boxes full of things. I can’t wear 
anything of Susan’s, but Lily’s clothes fit me 
almost perfectly. She has awfully pretty 
underclothes, and she had brought silk stock- 
ings. I said I didn’t wear silk stockings every 
day, but she insisted on my taking them. Lily 
was perfectly charmed with herself, and kept 
thinking of things she could lend me, and 
finally she had a brilliant idea. Miss Flynn 
was making her a challis, which was almost 
done, and she said I could buy it and she would 
get another. 

I was glad enough, and Mrs. Maxwell 
thought it was a good plan ; so now I feel as if 
I had turned into Lily. It doesn’t look like 
me. It is gray blue with white rings in it, 
trimmed with blue silk, but beggars can’t be 


42 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


choosers. Experience impresses the truth of 
such sayings upon you. 

I suppose I shall never hear the last of my 
white gloves, for Lily in the innocence of her 
heart told Charlie that all I had saved were my 
slippers and gloves. And you know Charlie. 

Anyhow, I had my gloves to wear to church. 
I thought I ought to go and give thanks that 
we weren’t burned up ourselves, so I went in 
Lily’s dress and Susan’s hat. I looked over at 
the Wise Man’s tablet and thought of you, 
and resolved to dig hard hereafter to show my 
thankfulness. 

Papa is staying at the Clifford, and we are 
looking for a house. I can’t bear to think it 
may be far away from this neighborhood. 
Susan has been perfectly dear to me. And 
now. Miss Margaret dear, I have written you 
a long letter, though I haven’t told half. I 
hope you will have a delightful voyage. I miss 
you every day, even your scoldings which I 
always deserved. 

With love to Colonel Brand, 

Always your devoted, 

Holliday. 


CHIEFLY LETTERS 


43 


My dear Miss Margaret, — 

Holliday says we really ought to say “ Dear 
Mrs. Brand,” but that would make it seem like 
a letter to some one I did not know, and 
Mother says you will be glad to be called Miss 
Margaret still. Holliday has told you about 
the fire. We have not talked of anything 
else since it happened, so I feel as if there was 
nothing left to tell you. Holliday has been 
very brave and cheerful, and makes jokes about 
not having any clothes of her own, but it 
must be very hard. It is lovely to have her 
here. We talked so much at night. Mother 
had to put her in Joe’s room. Isn’t it for- 
tunate Holliday can wear Lily’s things, and 
that Lily has such a lot? I am afraid Mr. 
Heywood won’t be able to find a house in this 
part of town. They may have to stay at the 
hotel. 

The Brocade Lady thought maybe Miss 
Reynor would take them, but Miss Cornelia 
said that three people and two maids would be 
more than she could accommodate. She has 
one boarder, a man who writes books, Lily 
says. 

The fire interrupted our class, but we are to 


44 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


begin again to-morrow, at Mrs. Boone’s, for 
the present. Miss Grant is very pleasant, but 
not like you. Monsieur Laval is nice, too. I 
must tell you a funny thing Lily said. He 
gave us some sentences to translate, just to 
see how much we knew. Lily’s was Chacun 
a son gout"' and she read it ‘‘ Every one has 
the gout.” Of course we laughed, and she 
said, just as if we were disputing it, “ I don’t 
care, almost everybody has.” 

Monsieur laughed and laughed, and said, 
" C'est vrcd, mademoiselle, Je Vai moi- 
memef" but it was ever so long before he could 
convince her that gout means taste ” in Eng- 
lish. 

We are reading ‘‘ Cinderella,” and it is 
funny how exciting it is in French. Aunt 
Henrietta sent me a French Testament, and 
last night Holliday and I read about the Wise 
Man. I don’t think Vhomme prudent 
sounds half so well as wise man.” Father 
says we are naturally prejudiced in favor of 
English. 

Holliday was going to have a Hallowe’en 
party, but now she doesn’t know where she will 
be. Mother says we may have it here. 


CHIEFLY LETTERS 


45 


Silvy has just brought in Clarice’s card. 
She is very stylish. It is only HoUiday she 
wants to see, but I suppose 111 have to go in. 

I hope you and Colonel Brand will have a 
lovely time. Please remember me to him, and 
don’t forget me, dear Miss Margaret. I am 
going to remember all you said. 

Your very loving, 

Susan. 

Holliday looked in at the door as Susan was 
sealing her letter. “ Put a stamp on mine, 
please, Susan, and I’ll remember to pay you 
back. I suppose you know Clarice is here.” 

‘‘ Do you think she wants to see me? ” 

“ She wouldn’t be very polite if she didn’t,” 
Holliday answered. 

“ I meant really,” Susan explained, as she 
put on the stamps. 

Clarice was not an intimate friend like 
Bessie and Lily, who ran in without formality, 
so she was received in the parlor. At this time 
living rooms had not come into vogue. People 
like the Seymours had drawing-rooms, but 
less fashionable folk were content with parlors. 
At Susan’s there was a large mirror over the 


46 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


mantel, with a bronze clock and ornaments in 
front of it. In the wall space on either side 
hung portraits of Grandfather and Grand- 
mother Maxwell; between the front windows 
was one of Susan herself at the age of three, 
very chubby and blue-eyed and kissable. 
There was an elaborately embroidered lam- 
brequin on the mantel, and a scarf to match on 
the pier table, and the furniture was in linen 
covers. It was not at all the homelike place 
the dining-room was. Susan was apt to feel 
shy and stiff when she had a visitor in the 
parlor. 

Clarice rushed to Holliday and embraced 
her ardently. “ To think of all you have gone 
through since I last saw you ! ” she exclaimed. 
“ But you are not utterly crushed, as I feared.” 

Holliday laughed. “ Of course I am not. 
Did you think something fell on me? ” 

Clarice laughed, too. ‘‘ Silly child, but then 
you haven’t any nerves. And how is Susan? ” 
she added, turning to her. 

Susan submitted to be kissed, with, ‘‘ I am 
very well, thank you,” feeling somehow an 
extremely small girl. 

Although Clarice professed a deep interest 


CHIEFLY LETTERS 


4T 

in the fire, it seemed to Susan she only half 
listened to Holliday. At the first opportunity 
she broke in with, “ Oh, Holliday, I suppose 
you received my letter? ” - Her manner was 
significant, and Susan scented love affairs. 

She looked at the ceiling and then at the 
floor. “ My fondest hopes are to be realized,” 
she cried. “ I am dying to tell you.” 

“ Shall I go upstairs? ” Susan asked. 

“ How very blunt you are. Of course not. 
I should not care to have you speak of it, but 
I am sure I can trust you, Susan.” 

“ She will keep it dark, won’t you, Susan? 
Go on, Clarice,” Holliday urged. 

Again Clarice studied the hearth rug, with 
her head on one side. ‘‘ He is to be here this 
winter, — the friend I wrote you about.” 

“Really, Clarice? What fun!” 

“ I had a note from him the day we left. I 
don’t know what Mamma will say when she 
hears it. She has been so unkind. She treats 
me like a child, but she will find it is useless 
to oppose me.” 

It seemed that this friend whose name 
Clarice had not as yet mentioned, was much 
older than she. However, she declared im- 


48 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


pressively she would rather be an old man’s 
darling than a young man’s slave. That there 
could be any other alternative did not ap- 
parently occur to her. 

After all, a girl with a real lover was in- 
teresting, and Clarice in her pale blonde way 
was unusually pretty to-day. It was quite 
annoying to have the Brocade Lady walk in. 
Mrs. Maxwell was out, but all she wanted was 
Joe’s address, for some friends who were going 
to Denver, and Susan could give her that. 
Instead of leaving when it was given her, she 
sat at her ease, chatting about things in general 
and asking Holliday questions about the fire, 
till Clarice could stand it no longer, and left. 

“ Susan,” said Holliday, as she dropped 
their letters into the mail box at the corner, 
later that afternoon, “ there is a queer thing I 
forgot to tell you. I am not perfectly certain, 
but I think I saw that Worth While Man the 
night of the fire. It was when Mr. Reynor 
was putting his coat on me. I forgot it till 
this morning, when I found the scraps of his 
letter in my jewel box where I had put them. 
They reminded me.” 

“ It is funny they happened to be saved. 


CHIEFLY LETTERS 


49 


Perhaps some day we shall find out what is 
worth while, and who B. A. is,’' answered 
Susan. 

“ Perhaps. And, Susan, it is our secret, 
just yours and mine. We won’t tell any one.” 
“ I won’t if you won’t,” Susan agreed. 


CHAPTER V 

A TELEGRAM [SUSAN WRITES] 

Every rose, it is said, has a thorn, and so 
the pleasure of having Holliday with me was 
half spoiled by the fear that they would have 
to take a house far away in another part of 
town. I know, of course, we ought not to cross 
bridges before we come to them, but it is hard 
to live up to. Mr. Heywood heard of a house 
on Deane Avenue, that was for rent, furnished, 
for the winter, and as Holliday said, it sounded 
alarmingly nice. He sent word to her to be 
ready at three that afternoon to go with him 
to look at it. 

It was Saturday, and she and Lily and I 
were sitting in my room with our work. Holli- 
day was replenishing her wardrobe, she said, 
and was indignant at me for laughing at the 
very fancy apron she was making. 

“ It is easy for you to laugh when you have 
a whole drawer full. Suppose the Hospital 
60 


A TELEGRAM 5t 

Guild should have a tea and want me to wait 
on a table? ” she said. 

I told her she might have one of mine in 
that case, but she insisted she was sick and 
tired of borrowing. 

We were telling Lily about the house on 
Deane Avenue, and wondering what would 
become of our class if they took it, for it is 
more than a mile away, when Robin Bright 
came in with Foxy at his heels. Robin still 
wanders around the neighborhood, although 
his aunt, Mrs. Tryon, who has come to live 
with them and take care of him and his father, 
tries to keep him at home. He is very intimate 
with all the cooks and seems to know the days 
when cake making is going on. 

“ Here’s a letter for you, Holliday,” he 
said. He added, when we asked him where he 
got it, that Silvy gave it to him, and the boy 
was waiting. 

“ It is from Papa. Probably he can’t get 
off to look at the house,” Holliday said as she 
opened it. ‘‘ And I’ll just be glad of it,” she 
went on. I hope somebody else will take 
it, so we can’t.” 

When she unfolded the note, a yellow paper 


52 CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

fell into her lap. She read the note aloud: 
“ Dear Daughter, I enclose telegram just re- 
ceived. Let me know how the idea strikes 
you.” 

“It must be from Aunt Nan,” she said; 
then for a minute we thought she had lost her 
mind. As she looked at the telegram her eyes 
grew bigger and bigger, and then she jumped 
up, letting her work fall on the floor, and be- 
gan to dance wildly around the room, crying, 
“ Susan! Lily! the grandest thing! ” 

Foxy naturally thought she wanted to play 
with him, and began to bark and jump on her, 
and Robin in trying to stop him stepped into 
Holliday’s work basket, and all together 
pandemonium reigned. 

Holliday dropped down on the couch and 
tried to keep Foxy off with a pillow, scream- 
ing, “ Robin, make him stop. He’s got my 
telegram! Susan, help me! Make the horrid 
little beast go away! ” 

I told her if she would just stop herself, 
and not act like a crazy person, we would 
stop the dog. Robin pulled him off and held 
his hand over his mouth, and I picked up the 
torn telegram. Holliday said to read it, so I 


A TELEGRAM 


53 


did. My house at your disposal. Six months 
or year. Have wired Jones. W. S. Brand.” 

I didn’t wonder then that Holliday was ex- 
cited. She says I stood with my mouth wide 
open for a whole minute. Lily brought me 
to my senses by asking, “ Who is Jones? ” 
as if anybody cared. Then I gasped, “ Does 
he mean Christmas Tree House?” 

“What else could he mean?” cried Holli- 
day, and then she went off again, seizing me 
and dragging me around the room, till Foxy 
escaped and we had another scene. Presently 
I remembered that the boy was waiting and 
reminded her. 

“ Sensible Susan,” she cried, “ give me a 
pencil. To think of living in Christmas Tree 
House! ” 

She wrote to her father that it would be 
perfectly grand, and gave the note to Robin. 
“ Take it down like a duck,” she said, “ and 
don’t feel obliged to come back if you don’t 
want to.” After that we had some more 
raptures, which were not so bad now Foxy had 
departed. 

Lily was still wondering who Jones was, 
and to quiet her we simply had to bring our 


54 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


intellects to bear on the question, as Holliday; 
said. We decided he must be somebody who 
attended to the Colonel’s business. 

“ Well, I just wanted to know,” she said, 
“ and I should think, Holliday, you would be 
afraid to live there.” 

We both wished to know why, now the 
ghostly tree had been explained and the 
Colonel had had new panes put in the window ! 

“ But queer things are always happening 
there. I’d be afraid,” she insisted. 

Holliday, who was at the bureau, arranging 
her hair, said that was too bad, for then Lily 
wouldn’t want to come to her Hallowe’en 
party. 

Lily said that was different. She meant to 
live there. She wouldn’t mind a party. 

“For my part I hope there will be some 
ghosts,” Holliday announced. 

“ Now, Holliday, you don’t really,” I said, 
and she replied, “ Oh, very well. Miss Maxwell, 
you know best, I suppose.” 

It didn’t take long to settle it. Mr. Hey- 
wood had a talk with Mr. Jones, the Colonel’s 
agent, and they didn’t go to look at the Deane 
Avenue house at all. Mrs. Lawrence came on 


A TELEGRAM 


55 


Monday, and Holliday insisted on taking her 
to see Christmas Tree House straight from 
the station. 

I was coming out of Browinski’s when they 
passed, and she stopped the carriage and made 
me get in. I didn’t want to, for I had on my 
old brown hat, that Mother made me wear be- 
cause it looked like rain, but you can’t resist 
Holliday. Mrs. Lawrence was very nice and 
pleasant, but so elegant, I could only hope she 
would not notice the mud on the toe of my shoe. 
Fortunately it took only about half a minute 
to get to Christmas Tree House from there, so 
there wasn’t much time for her to dwell on my 
defects. Holliday told me afterwards that her 
aunt said I was a most attractive little girl, so 
perhaps she didn’t notice my hat. But it seems 
to me after you are in your teens you aren’t 
exactly a little girl. 

Mrs. Lawrence was delighted with Christ- 
mas Tree House. She said it would be lovely 
to entertain in. Mr. Heywood added that it 
would be an expensive place to run; but when 
Holliday asked, ‘‘ You can afford it, can’t you. 
Papa?” he laughed and said he guessed it 
would not break him. Mrs. Boone says he has 


56 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


made a lot of money in cotton. I asked F ather 
why he didn’t try cotton. He smiled and said 
it took money to make money. 

Holliday and I squeezed hands as we went 
up the steps to the porch. It seemed too queer 
to be walking into the Colonel’s house. Mr. 
Jones was waiting, and he and Mrs. Lawrence 
and Mr. Heywood began to talk business at 
once. Mrs. Lawrence makes me think of a 
queen. You feel as if she couldn’t possibly do 
anything for herself, but she knows exactly 
what she wants other people to do. 

The house really did suggest ghosts, with the 
furniture, pictures, and chandeliers all done 
up in white covers. Holliday and I wandered 
around by ourselves, and thought of the day 
when Robin ran away from us and we followed 
him and got shut in. We peeped into the east 
parlor, which used to be called the haunted 
room. Colonel Brand never used it, and there 
was very little furniture in it. 

I couldn’t think why Holliday wanted to go 
down to the basement, and she says she didn’t 
know why herself, which is queer, for she 
walked straight to the door on the left of the 
entrance as you go in, and opened it. The 


A TELEGRAM 


57 


room we looked into was square, with two 
windows opening into the garden towards the 
Reynors’, and one on the front steps that 
wind up to the porch. There was some old- 
fashioned furniture, — a bookcase, a large sofa, 
and a sort of office table. Holliday exclaimed, 
just as if she had known it all along, “ Here 
is our school-room.” 

It was the very place for it. Mr. Hey wood 
and Mrs. Lawrence both thought so when they 
saw it, and the more Holliday and I looked at 
it the more charmed we grew. There was a 
high mantel and a fireplace, and a chimney 
cupboard, and the window sills were broad 
enough to sit on with comfort. Holliday and 
I both love to sit on window sills. The cup- 
board was locked, and Holliday found the key 
in Saunders’ basket. He is the negro man who 
takes care of the place, and he had been stand- 
ing around with the keys ever since we came. 
We rather hoped to find something interesting, 
but the cupboard was bare, like old Mother 
Hubbard’s. It was quite deep and paneled in 
wood, and had two shelves. Holliday said we 
could keep our valuable papers there. 

Mr. Heywood laughed and pinched her ear 


58 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


and wanted to know what valuable papers we 
had. He and Mrs. Lawrence drove back to 
the hotel, and Holliday and I walked home. 
At the corner I looked back at Christmas Tree 
House. With all the shutters open it seemed 
to have changed its mind and decided to be 
sociable after all. 

After the Hey woods moved in, or walked in, 
rather, it looked much more so. Mrs. Law- 
rence knows the best place for everything. By 
putting a screen here and a table there, and 
moving the chairs about, she made it seem alto- 
gether different from the Colonel’s house. 
There was a big palm in the hall, which the 
Seymours sent over, and ferns and other grow- 
ing plants all about. 

Holliday says her aunt is wild over the 
house, as if Mrs. Lawrence could be wild! 
She is going to entertain a great deal, Holli- 
day says. Miss Josephine Seymour is to be 
married, and Marion is to make her debut at 
the wedding. As Mrs. Seymour is not strong, 
Mrs. Lawrence is to chaperon Marion this 
winter. 

The day after they moved in we were sitting 
in one of the school-room windows and Holli- 


A TELEGRAIVI 


59 


day was telling me this, when suddenly she 
grasped my arm. '‘Susan, look!” she ex- 
claimed, and there, coming in the Reynors’ 
front gate, was the man we saw on the country 
car. “The Worth While Man,” Holliday 
calls him. “ Do you know, Susan Maxwell,” 
she continued, “ I believe he is Miss Cornelia’s 
boarder.” 

It turns out that he is, really, and stranger 
still, that he is Clarice’s lover. Bessie told us 
that. Well, I am glad I don’t have to live next 
door to him, — much more, have him for a lover. 
I shall always think he looks like Monsieur 
Rigaud. Bessie says Miss Cornelia thinks he 
is perfectly charming, but that the Poet doesn’t 
like him. 

Holliday had a beautiful letter from Miss 
Margaret, written just as they were sailing. 
She said : “ I am so delighted to think of you 
and Susan in Christmas Tree House, for I 
know Susan will be there a great deal. It is 
hard for me to realize it is now my home, but 
I suppose it is, and I am counting on you to 
create a new atmosphere in the old house, in 
keeping with its cheerful name.” 

Holliday says she doesn’t understand about 
creating atmosphere, and neither do I. 


s 


CHAPTER VI 
Hallowe’en 

Holliday stood on an upturned flower pot 
and rested her arms on top of the wall. ‘‘ How 
can you create atmosphere, Mr. Reynor? ” she 
asked. 

The Poet, who was pacing back and forth 
on the gravel path of his own garden, his hands 
clasped behind his back, his head bowed, looked 
up in surprise. Shielded as he was from the 
street by a screen of shrubbery, and from his 
neighbors by a brick wall, his solitude had 
never before been thus invaded. Colonel 
Brand seldom walked in his garden, and when 
he did, kept strictly to his own domain. ‘‘ I 
beg your pardon? ” he said, pausing. 

“ Susan and I want to know how to create 
an atmosphere,” Holliday repeated. “ Susan, 
there is room for you here.” 

The footing offered was rather limited, but 
Susan made the venture. Her head came just 
above Holliday’s shoulder as she stood beside 
her. 


60 


HALLOWE’EN 


61 


“ Susan says you remind her of Mr. Cowper 
taking his winter morning walk/’ continued 
Holliday. “ Only of course it is not winter.” 

“ Unfortunately that is not the only dis- 
crepancy. Still, I thank you.” Mr. Reynor 
bowed gravely. 

“ Oh, we like your poetry much better than 
his. Don’t we, Susan?” 

“ Thank you again. I am unused to such 
appreciation. But about atmosphere, — are 
you writing something? ” 

“ I didn’t know atmosphere had anything to 
do with writing,” Susan said, finding her voice. 
“We mean in a house. Miss Margaret says 
in her letter, that she expects us to create a 
new atmosphere in Christmas Tree House.” 

“ And if she expects it we have got to do it,” 
Holliday added. 

The Poet smiled. “ It won’t give you the 
least trouble. It is something you do without 
trying. Life undoubtedly leaves an impres- 
sion upon houses and localities. Christmas 
Tree House, as you call it, has had a sad 
history. If I understand Mrs. Brand’s mean- 
ing, she wishes you to have a happy winter 
there, and so overlay as it were the older. 


62 CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

sadder impressions with a new and different 
one.” 

“ Like new paper on the wall,” Holliday 
suggested. “ It is rather a queer idea, isn’t it, 
Susan? ” 

“ Paper on the wall is not a bad simile. A 
piece of parchment which has been written 
over twice, is the more usual one. Palimpsest 
is the name for it.” 

At this point the conversation was brought 
to an abrupt close, for across the grass ad- 
vanced Miss Cornelia’s boarder, with his 
jaunty air of self-assurance. ‘‘ Ah, Mr. 
Reynor! enjoying the sunshine, I see,” he re- 
marked, looking at Susan and Holliday and 
lifting his hat. 

“ I think the wind has changed,” replied the 
Poet, glancing in the direction of the weather 
vanes on the Colonel’s stable and turning on 
his heel. 

If Mr. Lemoyne had expected to be pre- 
sented to the young ladies, he was disap- 
pointed. He was left to twist his mustache 
alone. 

“ Mr. Reynor doesn’t like their boarder. 
Lily says Miss Cornelia told her grandmother 


HALLOWE’EN 


63 


so,” remarked Holliday, as they went back to 
the house, across the garden, where Saunders 
was at work tying straw around the more 
delicate plants and putting things in trim for 
the winter. Miss Cornelia said she couldn’t 
imagine why, for Mr. Lemoyne had perfectly 
fascinating manners. So you see, Susan, 
Clarice isn’t the only one. And you may say 
what you please, I do think he is stylish.” 

Certainly Mr. Lemoyne was a person you 
couldn’t help noticing, whether you admired 
him or not. Nevertheless, Susan sympathized 
with the Poet. 

‘‘ That is a very queer idea about atmos- 
phere,” Holliday went on. “ When you think 
of it, it is a little creepy. But I’ll tell you, 
Susan, we can create a lot of atmosphere of the 
right kind at the Hallowe’en party. I am 
going to have twelve. I have asked Clarice, 
and Nettie Try on, Mr. Bright’s niece, and the 
boys will be Tom Mann, Charlie Willard, 
Grayson Anderson, Phil Grant, and Ted 
Mark, — and Dick, of course. He is to get 
home that afternoon.” 

Clarice considered herself such a young lady, 
Susan wondered she cared to come ; but she had 


64 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


accepted, and so, as Holliday remarked, it was 
her own lookout. 

In the story that Susan and Holliday set out 
to write for Miss Margaret that winter, there 
are many gaps ; for one reason and another it 
dwindled at times to the merest record of 
events, but the story of the Hallowe’en party 
cannot be better told than by extracts from 
Holliday’s account of it, written while the in- 
terest of it was still fresh. 

The stately mansion known as Christmas 
Tree House was the scene of joyous revelry on 
the night of October thirty-first. It was 
not only Hallowe’en, the night when witches, 
fairies, and spirits of the departed are sup- 
posed to be abroad, it was also my birthday. 
As I shall probably never have another in this 
house, we decided to celebrate in a special way. 
Susan and I talked about it for weeks, and had 
enough brilliant ideas for ten parties. Aunt 
Nan convinced us of this when we confided 
them to her, and persuaded us to keep some 
of them for another time. 

My guests were asked to supper at seven 
o’clock, and the first thing we did was to choose 
partners. Unfortunately, Dick Seymour’s 


HAL]f.OWE’EN 


65 


train was late and at the last minute a tele- 
phone message came that he was just in, and 
would be over as soon as possible, but not to 
wait. While the boys stayed in the hall below, 
we girls went upstairs. Clarice was the most 
dressed up of any of us. She wore a sort of 
Greek dress of some soft white material, with 
a green girdle. Her hair was in a psyche knot, 
and she carried a big yellow chrysanthemum. 
She took Delsarte last summer, and it was a 
costume she wore at an exhibition. She whis- 
pered to me that Mr. Lemoyne said she was a 
poem in it. 

We had six balls of yarn of different colors, 
one for each of us, and we were to stand to- 
gether out of sight of the boys and drop them 
over the railing, keeping fast hold of the ends. 
The boy who caught your ball would of course 
be your partner. It seemed to me I had better 
take Dick, as without him we were an uneven 
number, but Susan said it would be more fun 
for me to throw with the rest, and let whoever 
was left have Dick. 

The corners of Bessie’s mouth turned down 
at this, as if she thought Susan was hoping to 
get Dick for herself. Susan doesn’t do such 


66 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


things, and Bessie knows it, but she has a sus- 
picious nature. 

The boys were subdued by Aunt Nan, who 
was going out to dinner and looked very grand. 
She has a way of making people afraid of her, 
though she doesn’t mean it. Every now and 
then, however, you could hear Charlie’s giggle. 

It took some time to settle the question 
whether or not I was to throw, but finally I 
called “ ready,” and we tossed our balls over. 
Lily was so excited she dropped her end, but 
fortunately it caught on one of the spindles and 
she got it again. The rest of us held on, while 
the boys laughed and scrambled down in the 
hall. It was a wonder they didn’t all break. 
Tom Mann pulled so hard Clarice lost her hold, 
which was a sign, Bessie told her, that she 
would not get married this year. Clarice didn’t 
seem to like this till Susan reminded her there 
were just two more months, then she cheered 
up. Phil Grant caught Bessie’s; Charlie, 
Nettie Try on’s; Ted Mark, Lily’s; and Gray- 
son Anderson, mine. Of all funny things, 
Susan’s caught in the big palm and broke I Of 
course Bessie sang out, “ Susan’s going to be 
an old maid,” but she is used to Bessie and 


HALLOWE’EN 


67 


didn’t seem to mind. Lily made us all laugh 
by saying, “ Anyway, you can have Dick this 
evening.” Then I remembered that Mrs. 
Seymour had sent that palm over from their 
greenhouse. If I had stopped to think I 
would not have mentioned it, for Susan hates 
to be teased, but I didn’t, and Charlie made 
endless jokes about her ball being caught in 
Dick’s palm. Susan grew red and dignified, 
hut she stood it very well, and Aunt Nan 
came to the rescue. 

They were all interested in seeing the 
house, particularly the east room where the 
spectral tree used to be. Grayson wanted to 
know if we had seen any ghosts. I told him 
no, but if there were any they would appear 
to-night, which made Lily uneasy. 

Bessie said it would be a lovely place to 
dance, and taking hold of Susan, began to 
waltz around. Susan’s bracelet came un- 
clasped, the one that used to be Elsie Sey- 
mour’s, and she slipped it off and put it on the 
mantel. Just then supper was announced. 
Of the bracelet ‘‘ more anon,” as they say in 
stories. 

The table was lovely with a jack-o’-lantern 


68 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


centerpiece, yellow-shaded candles, tiny jack- 
o’-lanterns at the boys’ places and witches 
at the girls’. Fortunately Aunt Nan and 
Papa were dining out, so we could make all 
the noise we liked, without shocking anybody, 
and we were uproarious. Parker and Gertie 
had all they could do to keep their faces 
straight. 

In the midst of the fun Dick arrived, taller 
than ever and looking very dignified and 
proper. When you haven’t seen a person for 
a year you are apt to feel a little stiff at first, 
but if there was any ice it melted very quickly, 
as he took the vacant chair by Susan and 
Parker brought him the back numbers, as Tom 
expressed it. 

Of course Charlie made a lot of fun over 
Susan’s baU, but he couldn’t tease Dick, who 
said as coolly as you please, that he was much 
obliged to the palm, and he hoped Susan 
would make the best of it, as she had on an- 
other occasion. 

My birthday cake was a beauty, with its 
yellow candy roses and fifteen yellow candles, 
and I might linger upon it if so much had 
not happened later. We were to finish our 


HALLOWE’EN 


69 


celebration in the school-room, which seemed 
more suitable than the Colonel’s library for 
such undignified games as bobbing for apples 
and so on. Papa put his foot down that we 
were not to do anything scary, like going into 
a dark room alone with a candle and standing 
before a mirror, which was a disappointment 
to me. 

When supper was over we marched down 
to the school-room by way of the front porch 
and the garden, and in at the back door of the 
basement, carrying jack-o’-lanterns which the 
boys had fastened on long sticks. In the 
school-room a surprise awaited some of us. 

Instead of being perfectly dark as I had 
expected, before the fireplace stood a tall 
veiled figure, holding a lighted torch in one 
hand and a box in the other. It was strange 
and mysterious indeed. I was taken com- 
pletely by surprise. Lily gave a gasp, and 
Charlie whispered, Shut up, Lil ; ” and then 
as we paused before the veiled figure, she 
called my name and said: 

You as a child of Hallowe'en 
Many fearsome sights have seen. 

Perchance with fairies you have talked, 

Or else with ghostly forms have walked, 


70 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


To you belongs a mystic power; 

It you must employ this hour. 

To you I give a torch of fire 
To light fair summer’s funeral pyre. 

The sacred flames that on this night 
Kneeling before this hearth you light, 

Gleaming and mounting as they burn, 

Herald winter’s quick return.” 

She handed me the torch and went on: 

** Loved of the Fairies, e’er I go 
’Tis yours fair fortunes to bestow. 

For each within this casket lies 
A talisman in strange disguise.” 

She gave me the casket and in solemn majesty 
left the room. 

As I knelt to light the fire I felt almost as 
if I had some mysterious power. Charlie’s 
laugh broke the spell, and I heard Phil 
whisper, “ She was great, wasn’t she? ” 

The fire blazed beautifully, and we sat on 
the fioor in a double semicircle before it and 
I opened the casket. Around the room the 
jack-o’-lanterns grinned at us. The casket 
was really a lovely Japanese jewel box, a 
birthday present from the boys, and in it were 
a dozen tiny spades. 

‘‘ Susan Maxwell, I know you had some- 
thing to do with this,” I cried. ‘‘ A dozen 
morals all at once ! ” 


HALLOWE’EN 


71 


But Susan insisted that she hadn’t. 

Lily of course did not see how shovels 
could be talismans, until Dick explained very 
politely that it meant that if we expected good 
fortune this year we must dig for it. Then 
she remembered the Wise Man, and made con- 
nection, as Charlie said. 

Clarice looked as if she thought it all rather 
silly, and just then Parker announced from 
the door, a gentleman for Miss Dumont. 

Clarice jumped up in great haste. “ Good- 
night, everybody,” she said, “ and don’t come, 
Holliday, please. Gertie will help me with 
my things. I have had a lovely time.” 

She seemed so determined and went off 
in such a hurry that I let her go alone. Then 
I began to think it wasn’t very polite in me, 
but Susan said she was going up to get some- 
thing she had left in the library, and that 
would do. She didn’t say what it was, but it 
turned out later to be her bracelet, which she 
had forgotten till then. 

As I stood undecided, Bessie wondered 
why Clarice had to go so early, and I ex- 
plained that when I invited her she had said 
she might have to go soon after supper. 


72 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


Charlie said, “ Let’s all go up and see her off. 
A ghost might catch her,” and so we all raced 
after Susan. 

The basement stairs lead up into a back 
hall, and as we reached the top we heard the 
strangest sound, as if somebody were trying 
to scream and couldn’t, and there was Susan 
with her hands at her throat, catching her 
breath in a queer way. We took her into the 
front hall and made her sit down, and Lily 
suggested a glass of water. It sounds when I 
tell it very much more calm than it was. 
Everybody talked at once and begged Susan 
to tell what was the matter. Lily’s idea was 
not a bad one, for after Tom brought the 
water and Susan had swallowed some, she 
found her voice. Something in the east room 
had frightened her, she said. There was some 
one there. 

“ Burglars! Burglars! ” cried Lily, ‘‘ Oh — 
oh!” 

If anything will make you calm and com- 
posed, it is to have Lily go off the handle. It 
worked like a charm with Susan. She began 
to realize that whatever had happened, noth- 
ing could harm her now with all of us there. 


HALLOWE’EN 


73 


She explained that after she started, she re- 
membered her bracelet was on the mantel in 
the east parlor. So she went through the din- 
ing-room, which is the nearest way. As she 
pushed aside the hangings of the door, it 
seemed as if the light went out, but it may 
have seemed so because she expected to find 
the room light. 

At this point in her story Clarice came trail- 
ing downstairs, wanting to know what was the 
matter, and at the same moment who should 
come out of the drawing-room but Miss 
Cornelia’s boarder! He asked if there was 
anything wrong, and if he could be of any 
service, and Clarice said, Mr. Lemoyne, 
Miss Heywood.” It dawned upon me then 
that he had come for her. 

Dick asked, “ Susan, how do you know 
there was somebody there? ” 

Susan said she wasn’t frightened at first, 
although she was surprised to find the room 
dark, but remembering exactly where she had 
put her bracelet, she felt her way to the man- 
tel, which is near the door, and reached up 
for it. As she did so she touched another 
hand. 


74 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


At this Mr. Lemoyne sensibly suggested 
that we’d better investigate, and he smiled in 
the way Susan says is like Monsieur Rigaud. 
You could see he thought it was all foolish- 
ness. So we moved in a body to the east 
parlor, and one of the boys lighted the gas. 
There on the mantel lay Susan’s bracelet, 
but no burglar or any one else was to be 
seen. 

Mr. Lemoyne, who stood at the door with 
Clarice, remarked that on Hallowe’en one’s 
imagination was apt to be keyed up, and he 
smiled again at Susan. Then he and Clarice 
left, saying we had enough protectors with- 
out them. After that we searched the house 
from top to bottom, without finding anybody, 
or any evidence that any one had escaped, for 
the doors and windows were all fastened on 
the inside. But it was queer and mysterious, 
for Parker insisted that he had left the light 
burning in the east room. 

Dick said he might have turned it out ab- 
sent-mindedly, and Charlie said it was the 
ghost, more to tease Lily than anything else. 
Tom added that ghosts were thin air, which 
would not square with Susan’s belief that she 


HALLOWE’EN 


75 


had touched a hand. So they went on argu- 
ing about it after we went back to the school- 
room and our interrupted revels. Bessie said 
it was all Susan’s imagination, and Dick 
suggested that it might have been the velvet 
mat under one of the bronze ornaments on the 
mantel, that felt like a hand. Susan didn’t 
say anything then, but she told me afterwards 
the hand had a ring on it. It sounds grue- 
some to speak of a hand as if there were no 
person attached to it. 

We turned on all the lights there were, for 
the rest of the evening, and we bobbed for 
apples and roasted chestnuts and did other 
customary things, but the spell was broken. 
Susan was very quiet and said her head 
ached, and Lily kept looking over her 
shoulder. 

After they had left and I was telling Papa 
and Aunt Nan about it, I picked up from the 
hearth of the east room a small enameled pin. 
A society pin of some kind. Papa said. It 
doesn’t belong to any of the boys. Mr. Le- 
moyne wasn’t in the room, so it can’t be his. 
We don’t know what to think. 

After I was in bed I remembered that I 


76 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


had not guessed who the lady with the torch 
was. Susan’s fright had put it out of my 
mind. There was something familiar in her 
voice. I went to sleep trying to place it. 


CHAPTER VII 

AT LILYA'S 

It gradually came to be the accepted opin- 
ion that Susan’s imagination was to blame 
for her fright on Hallowe’en. At times she 
half believed it herself. Her surprise at find- 
ing the room dark, the old ghost story, and 
the atmosphere of mystery prepared the way 
for uncanny suggestions. Yet there were 
moments when the recollection of the touch 
of that hand in the darkness was too vivid 
to be thus explained away. Often when she 
was in the dark alone she remembered it. 

There was the little pin found by Holli- 
day, too, to be accounted for. For all any 
one knew it might have been lying at the 
edge of the rug for some time. There had 
been numerous workmen of one sort or another 
about the house, and one of them might have 
lost it. Mr. Heywood said it seemed to him 
more sensible to accept some simple and reason- 
able explanation of the occurrence, even if 
there were flaws in the evidence. Nobody be- 
77 


78 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


lieved in ghosts, and if it was a burglar, he had 
disappeared without doing any harm, or leav- 
ing any trace of his flight. On the whole the 
imagination theory offered fewer objections 
than any other. 

“We don’t want to start any more stories 
about Miss Margaret’s house,” Holliday said 
one Saturday morning at Lily’s. “ Partic- 
ularly when she has asked us to create a new 
atmosphere. So let’s agree not to talk about 
it.” 

It was the custom to hold an occasional 
mending meeting on Saturday mornings, 
when there was nothing else of importance on 
hand. Bessie, who belonged to a large fam- 
ily and was a helpful little person, was the 
only one who had much mending to do. The 
Mann darning bag was always full. But if 
you hadn’t any mending you could bring your 
fancy work. 

Lily’s room was the gathering-place this 
morning, and she had received with much 
complacency the many admiring comments 
upon her new wall paper, which with its pink 
roses exactly matched the chintz hangings and 
couch cover. Her doting grandmamma had 


AT LILY’S 


79 


had it done for her birthday two months ago. 

“ Show them the inside of your bureau 
drawers, Lily,” said Bessie. 

Lily, not at all unwilling, pulled open a 
drawer and displayed an interior lined with 
dotted muslin over pink. “ Like a baby 
basket,” Susan said. From it floated the 
fragrance of violets. 

“ Did you do it? How lovely! ” exclaimed 
Nettie Try on, who had come with Susan. 
Her uncle, Mr. Bright, had asked that she 
might join their class, and as she was a 
stranger, as well as the niece of the popular 
rector, everybody was being nice to her, as 
Mrs. Boone expressed it. 

“No, indeed; Grandma did it,” answered 
Lily. “ And would you like to see my new 
dressing-gown and slippers? ” 

They would, of course; so more pinkness 
was brought forth and duly admired. 

“ You certainly ought to take a rose- 
colored view of life, Lily,” remarked Holli- 
day. 

“ Pink is my color, you know,” Lily an- 
swered. 

Mrs. Boone looked in at this moment, with 


80 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


a cheery ‘‘ Good-morning, girls. Yes, pink’s 
Lily’s color, though she looks pretty in blue, 
too, Lucinda is making crullers this morn- 
ing, and I told her to send up some as soon as 
they were done. Lily says your party was 
lovely, Holliday.” 

This led them back to Hallowe’en and 
Holliday’s suggestion not to encourage any 
stories about Christmas Tree House. 

‘‘ And, girls! ” she exclaimed, “ I have just 
found out about Miss Grant. I never sus- 
pected for a minute that she was the lady with 
the torch. Finally I began to wonder what 
had become of her, after she left us, you know, 
and I asked Gertie. She knew about it, and 
so did Aunt Nan.” 

“ I knew all the time. Tom made me 
promise not to tell,” said Bessie. “ The boys 
wanted to get up some kind of a surprise for 
you. It was Charlie who thought of asking 
Miss Grant to help. She has started a club 
for some of the boys. It meets on Friday 
nights. Tom belongs.” 

“ That explains why Charlie asked me so 
many questions about what we were going to 
do at the party,” remarked Susan. “ I sup- 


AT LILY’S St 

pose it was Miss Grant who thought of the 
spades.” 

“Of course,” answered Bessie; “the boys 
would never think of anything like that. Do 
you know,” she asked, suddenly changing the 
subject, “ that Clarice is going to be a boarder 
at Mrs. Knight’s ? ” 

“ She told me she was going for two hours 
every day, to take literature and history,” 
said Holliday, opening her work-bag and 
peering within. “ I do believe I have forgot- 
ten my thimble.” 

Bessie slipped her darning egg into position 
under a large hole. “ She was, until her 
mother found out about the other evening. 
Mrs. Dumont thought of course Clarice would 
come home with us. Instead of that she went 
to the flower show with Mr. Lemoyne.” 

There were exclamations over this. “ Really 
and truly, Bessie? ” Holliday said, “ I thought 
when Parker said some one had come for her 
that it must be her father, and when I saw Mr. 
Lemoyne I was surprised.” 

“ She thought she could slip away without 
anybody knowing, but Susan spoiled that,” 
replied Bessie. 


82 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


“ Don’t you think it was rather under- 
hand? ” asked Nettie Try on. 

“ I don’t care what you say,” announced 
Holliday, triumphantly producing her thimble 
at length, “ I am sorry for Clarice. Her 
mother is always wrangling with her about 
something. Clarice says if she hated Mr. 
Lemoyne, her mother would make her see 
him.” 

“ That isn’t a very nice way to speak of 
her mother,” Susan suggested. 

“ It is easy for you to talk, Susan, when you 
have a perfectly nice and reasonable mother. 
Clarice has to confide in some one. Mr. Le- 
moyne has been lovely to her. He lends her 
books about art and poetry. I really think 
he has a very good influence over her,” Hol- 
liday concluded with an air of extreme wis- 
dom. 

Does he know her mother doesn’t like 
him? ” asked Nettie. 

“ Clarice says she was insulting to him, so I 
suppose he must,” answered Holliday. 

“ It must be very interesting to have a 
grown-up lover,” remarked Lily, rolling her 
eyes sentimentally. “ Grandma says she 


AT LILY’S 


would put me in a convent if I were like 
Clarice.’* 

“ Perhaps that wouldn’t be so interesting,” 
laughed Susan. 

“ Susan and I know something about Mr. 
Lemoyne that no one else knows,” said Holli- 
day. 

“ And we have a piece of something that 
once belonged to him, — at least, Holliday 
has,” added Susan. 

This naturally aroused some curiosity, which 
the girls refused to gratify. 

“ I know, it is about the book he is writ- 
ing,” said Lily. 

“ So far as I know it isn’t, but it might be,” 
Holliday replied enigmatically. “ That re- 
minds me. Miss Cornelia says she would like 
to have the Golden Thimbles meet next Fri- 
day afternoon. Everybody is asked to bring 
ideas for making money for the hospital.” 

Bessie went home with Susan to get a story 
book which was being passed around the cir- 
cle. “ It is so peaceful and orderly over here,” 
she remarked with a sigh as they mounted the 
stairs to Susan’s room. “ It must be nice to be 
an only child.” 


84 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


“ I am not an only child/’ said Susan. 

“ Well, it is just the same. Your brother 
is so much older. What is yours is all youi 
own. I have to have Patsy in my room, and 
she will use my things, and Mother just 
laughs. I can’t keep anything in order. I’d 
think I was in heaven if I had a room like 
this.” 

Susan looked around her room. It was not 
elaborate like Lily’s, but pretty and girlish. 
Muslin curtains with fluted ruffles at the win- 
dows, fluted ruffles on the pillow covers, dress- 
ing-table, and high old-fashioned bureau. 
Matting on the floor with a few blue rugs, and 
everywhere her own special treasures, photo- 
graphs of the girls and boys, and knickknacks 
of many kinds. 

“ I love flutes,” continued Bessie, “ but 
there are too many of us to think of it. I 
should love to have you meet at our house 
sometimes, on Saturday mornings, but my 
room isn’t nice, and Carrie is always practicing 
in the parlor, and Grandpa sits in the library. 
Our house is always full of people.” Again 
Bessie sighed. 

Bessie’s room wasn’t nice, Susan knew. It 


AT LILY’S 


85 


was furnished with left-overs, an oak bed and 
bureau and a walnut wardrobe. The carpet 
was worn, and there weren’t any curtains. 
Dimly Susan was beginning to realize that 
this might have something to do with Bes- 
sie’s sharpness. There were ten children at the 
Manns’, and as the Brocade Lady once re- 
marked, Bessie was the odd one among the 
girls. Carrie was the oldest, Ellie was deli- 
cate, Patsy was the beauty, and Florrie was 
the baby; there seemed nothing to distinguish 
Bessie particularly. 

“ I don’t mean,” Bessie added, “ that I wish 
there weren’t so many of us, but just that there 
were more things and room.” 

Bessie had never spoken like this before, 
Susan thought as she put away her hat and 
coat and sat down to make out her weekly ac- 
counts. She liked Bessie better than she used 
to, now she had learned to control her foolish 
sensitiveness a little and not mind teasing so 
much. 

Bessie rarely had a new dress. Most of hers 
were made over out of Elbe’s and Carrie’s. 
She didn’t have an allowance either, just some 
change now and then when she needed it espe- 


86 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


dally. Susan had a dollar a week, out of 
which she paid her church money and her car 
fare, and besides this she had a savings ac- 
count. ‘‘ Susan Hermione is a thrifty lass,” 
Joe used to say. 

There was one thing they had all noticed, — 
Miss Grant seemed to like Bessie better than 
any of them. Holliday had remarked upon it 
to Susan. “ I don’t mind it,” she explained, 
“ but I do think it is queer, for honestly I don’t 
think Bessie is quite as nice as the rest of us. 
Do you? ” 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE THIMBLES MEET 

Miss Cornelians boarder, as he was fre- 
quently called, was not a person to be ignored. 
He did not hide his light under a bushel by 
any means. He was referred to as a real ac- 
quisition to local society; and the Poet might 
shrug his shoulders as he pleased, it had no 
effect. A most versatile person, a charming 
talker, so interesl^ed in art, and kindred sub- 
jects, — these were the remarks heard on every 
side concerning Mr. Lemoyne. 

Miss Cornelia was warm in his defense 
where Clarice was concerned. People were so 
ready to misunderstand, she said. He had met 
her at some resort and become interested in 
a fatherly way in the child. He felt Clarice 
was hampered by her environment. Every- 
body knew Mrs. Dumont was a silly woman. 
Miss Cornelia was certain Mr. Lemoyne had 
been unaware that Clarice had gone out with 
him against her mother’s wishes. Of course he 
87 


88 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


was too much of a gentleman to say so. M 
seems to me a great thing for Clarice to have 
such a friend,” she said in conclusion. 

The Brocade Lady, to whom she was 
speaking, replied that it was quite possible that 
the gentleman meant well, but she had her 
doubts as to the wisdom of such a friendship 
for Clarice. 

“ But if it should lead to something more 
serious, — that is what you mean, I suppose,” 
cried the sentimental Miss Reynor, “ don’t 
you think it might be the best thing for her? 
Doesn’t she need a guiding hand? ” 

‘‘ I don’t know that I meant anything of 
the sort. I haven’t met your boarder, but from 
what you tell me I should not expect him to 
be seriously drawn to a little goose like Clarice. 
She is a colorless little soul, with the sort of 
nerves that result from being brought up on 
coffee and the theater from babyhood. You 
are certain he is not simply amusing him- 
self?” 

Miss Cornelia indignantly repudiated the 
thought. Mr. Lemoyne had such nice ideas. 
Under a cross-examination these might have 
been reduced to an appreciation, gracefully 


THE THIMBLES MEET 


89 


expressed, of such things as black bean soup 
and beaten biscuit. His hostess felt it an in- 
dication of sterling character that he preferred 
his biscuits thin and brown, and his bacon 
crisp. 

He had spoken with considerable amusement 
of the excitement over the supposed burglar, 
at Christmas Tree House, on Hallowe’en. He 
gave Miss Cornelia the impression it was 
largely through his efforts that confidence had 
been restored. She felt it to be providential 
that he happened to be there. 

On the occasion of the first meeting of the 
circle of girls known as the Golden Thimbles, 
of which Miss Margaret had asked her to take 
charge this winter, Miss Reynor asked Mr. 
Lemoyne to speak to them on some instructive 
subject after the business was over. The fame 
of this talk on ‘‘ Harmony of Form and Func- 
tion ” went abroad and resulted in a class in 
the history of art, which he undertook at the 
earnest solicitation of somebody, modestly dis- 
claiming any fitness for it beyond a somewhat 
extensive reading, and a familiarity with Euro- 
pean galleries. 

There were some persons who, like Susan, 


90 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


could never rid themselves of the feeling that 
Mr. Lemoyne was laughing inwardly, and a 
few others who with Mr. Reynor failed to be 
impressed by his gifts; but behind this there 
might have been a little jealousy. 

The Poet might say what he pleased, that 
talk on “ Harmony of Form and Function” 
was the beginning of a needed reform. The 
artistic value of plush-covered rolling-pins as 
key racks, of match boxes in the form of slip- 
pers, and so on, began to be questioned. Less 
ribbon was threaded through fret work, the 
name of Royal Worcester ceased to be blindly 
worshiped, and decalcomaniacs, as the Brocade 
Lady named them, disappeared from the land. 

The “ Thimbles,” as the circle was usually 
called for short, had grown since the winter 
when its members made Lenore’s wardrobe. 
It numbered twelve or fifteen now, and was 
regarded as a valuable auxiliary to the Hos- 
pital Guild. But at this first meeting it was by 
the hardest that any decisions were reached. 
Miss Cornelia was so afraid of not doing 
exactly as Miss Margaret would wish, and so 
ignorant of parliamentary rules. 

One thing was certain, Holliday said, they 


THE THIMBLES MEET 


91 


must make some money for the children’s 
ward. Mrs. Carrol’s bequest had proved such 
a disappointment, they must try to make up 
for it; and besides, Susie Flynn, the little girl 
they had been interested in for so long, was 
now being treated at the hospital, for spinal 
trouble. 

“It is easy enough to say we must, but 
how? ” demanded Bessie. 

“ Grandma says she’ll give us some towels 
to hemstitch,” said Lily. 

“ I don’t see what we can do besides making 
things for our table at the bazaar,” said some- 
body else ; and Miss Cornelia, who loved fancy 
work, had a great many suggestions to offei^ 
here. 

“ Of course we shall have our table, but we 
can beg a lot of things for it. I want to do 
something else, something bigger,” Holliday 
urged. “ Of course it is easy to say it, Bessie, 
but if somebody doesn’t say it, we won’t begin.” 

The discussion at this time, however, came 
to nothing, and it was left for Mr. Lemoyne 
to offer the first really feasible plan. 

As it was the opening meeting. Miss Cor- 
nelia departed from the usual custom and 


92 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


served chocolate and cake, and while this was 
being handed, after that epoch-making talk, 
as the Poet sarcastically characterized it, 
Mr. Lemoyne sought the corner of the room 
where Holliday sat with Nettie Tryon and 
Susan. The latter, who was still secretary, 
was struggling to bring order out of some 
confused notes, and did not see him till he 
was upon them and it was impossible to get 
away without being rude. 

The more affable and gracious Mr. Le- 
moyne was, the more shy and uncomfortable 
Susan grew. To his hope that she had not 
seen or felt any more ghosts, she had nothing 
to reply. She felt that he regarded her as 
merely a silly little girl. But Holliday more 
than made up for Susan’s unresponsiveness. 

She referred to the day when he had picked 
up her bag on the car, and thought it was 
funny that he had come to live next door to 
her. Mr. Lemoyne replied that it was she 
who had come next door to him, for he was 
here first, and this was the occasion of a great 
deal of argument and laughter. 

He expressed a great admiration for Christ- 
mas Tree House, inquired about the name. 


THE THIMBLES MEET 9S 

and wondered if sometime he might be allowed 
to go over it. Art, it seemed, was entirely by 
the way, with him. He was deeply engrossed 
at present in his book, “ Southern Homes.” 
It was to be illustrated with all sorts of charm- 
ing bits of detail, from gates, doorways, man- 
tels, and so on, he explained. 

Chimney cupboards chanced to be men- 
tioned, and Mr. Lemoyne was interested to 
hear of the one in the school-room; He asked 
a number of questions. Were there not others 
in the house? he wished to know. He added 
that the Brocade Lady had promised to show 
him over her cottage, a charmingly quaint 
place. 

It was Nettie who wondered if Mr. Le- 
moyne could not tell them of some way of mak- 
ing money. 

Such charming young ladies surely ought to 
be able to command all the money they wanted, 
he said. Why not give a series of costume 
teas? — a colonial tea, a flower tea. Get some 
friends to furnish a little music, and the thing 
was done. Pretty girls in costume were a sure 
attraction to begin with. 

Holliday clapped her hands and stood up. 


94 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


“Everybody listen,” she cried; “Mr. Le- 
moyne has a perfectly grand plan.” 

The idea of dressing up seldom fails to 
charm the girlish heart, and did not this time. 
Even Susan reluctantly warmed to the plan as 
it unfolded. Miss Cornelia said they might 
have the first one there, and Holliday knew 
Aunt Nan would let her have the next. 

Mr. Lemoyne laughingly advised them to 
settle upon very simple refresliments. Miss 
Reynor was not to be trusted in such matters, 
and would bankrupt herself and everybody 
concerned, if unrestrained. 

Miss Cornelia pretended to be hurt, but was 
in reality immensely flattered, as any could 
see. 

In the confusion of good-bys and depart- 
ures, Mr. Lemoyne contrived an aside to 
Holliday. “ Be kind to my little friend if you 
see her, and tell her not to forget,” he said. 

Holliday thrilled with the significance of 
this. She didn’t mention it to Susan, but the 
next afternoon went to see Clarice. She found 
that young lady in a pensive mood, but not 
without enjoyment in her martyrdom. 

“You see how adorable he is,” she ex- 


THE THIMBLES MEET 


95 


claimed. “ And to think that I am denied the 
solace of his presence ! ” 

“ He really does seem devoted to you, 
Clarice,” Holliday said. “ Perhaps in another 
year your parents will relent.” 

Clarice looked at the ceiling. “We little 
guess what may happen in a year,” she replied 
oracularly. 


CHAPTER IX 


TRIFLES 

‘‘ SusAN^ I wish you would run over to the 
grocery and telephone to the plumber. The 
kitchen boiler is leaking.” 

“ Oh, Mother, couldn’t Silvy go? — or Sam? 
I hate to telephone.” 

‘‘ Sam is not here and I can’t spare Silvy. 
Nonsense, Susan.” 

Susan put down her book reluctantly. If 
she had not felt cross she might have laughed 
at the number of s’s in her mother’s reply. 
That boiler had a provoking habit of leaking at 
the most inconvenient times. It was Friday, 
and she had planned such a pleasant afternoon. 
She liked to lay out her afternoons in her own 
mind in an interesting, orderly fashion. When 
she finished her chapter she intended to cross- 
stitch awhile, enjoying the next chapter in 
prospect; then she would crochet two inches 
on the edging the Brocade Lady had taught 
her; after that she would write a little on the 

96 


TRIFLES 


97 


story, and then return with a virtuous mind to 
her book. This program was to be enlivened 
all the way through by a box of chocolate 
mints. 

Wink lay curled on the hearth rug; a long 
red bud on the rubber plant was just about to 
uncurl into a leaf. Who would not have dis- 
liked to be disturbed under such circum- 
stances? Besides, as Susan said, she hated to 
telephone. At this time telephones had not 
yet become the necessity they are considered 
now. Business and professional people had 
them, and luxurious people like the Seymours 
and Heywoods, but others still ran over to 
the drug store or grocery. 

“ Run along, dear, before the leak gets 
worse. It will take you but a minute.” 

For some reason it is extremely provoking 
to be told to run along. “ I suppose I’ll have 
to go, but I’ll walk,” Susan said to herself as 
her mother left the room. 

Although Susan was overcoming her shy- 
ness, there were times when she reverted to 
her former state, forgetting, as Joe would have 
said, that as a general thing people do not bite. 
All the telephones were so high that she had 


98 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


to stand on tiptoe, which was dreadfully tire- 
some, and she couldn’t bear to ask a clerk to 
call up for her, although that pleasant Mr. 
Smith at the drug store had offered to do it 
any time. The drug store was better than the 
grocery, however, and almost as near, in an- 
other direction. Susan reluctantly walked 
towards it. 

When she reached the door she was sorry 
she had not tried the grocery, for it seemed 
full of people, among them Charlie Willard 
and Phil Grant. She quickly decided to go 
on to Browinski’s, which was only a block 
farther. There it was no better, for Miss 
Carrie was taking a long order over the ’phone, 
and while she waited Susan’s small stock of 
courage ebbed away. Browinski himself was 
having an argument with some man over the 
counter, and talking very loud. In such a 
racket she knew she could not hear a word. 
After all, the plumber’s shop was only four 
blocks away now, and she might as well go 
there. So, just as Miss Carrie hung up the 
receiver, she slipped out of the store. 

Susan heaved a relieved sigh as she left the 
plumber’s. Of course she knew she had been 


TRIFLES 


a goose, but then she couldn’t help it. She had 
a perfect right to walk to the plumber’s if she 
wanted to. Then she decided she would go 
home by St. Mark’s and see how nearly the 
chapel was finished. 

But now she discovered that by shirking 
one disagreeable thing she had encountered an- 
other, for as she turned the corner by the rec- 
tory Mrs. Seymour and Dick stood on the 
church steps. For some reason telephoning at 
once began to seem as nothing, compared with 
the ordeal of speaking to Mrs. Seymour. The 
lady was indeed a somewhat formidable per- 
son, and Susan knew her very slightly, but 
after Elsie’s death she had sent her that pretty 
bracelet with a very kind note. Of course she 
must speak to her. It was too late to turn 
back, for they might have seen her. 

For a minute Susan wavered and came near 
slipping back around the corner, on the chance 
that she had not been seen. Then something 
she had heard Miss Grant say, rose before 
her: “ Do the hard thing or the disagreeable 
thing quickly, without thinking too much about 
it, without arguing;” and sudden courage 
or something as good came to the girl who 


100 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


couldn’t telephone, and she walked straight 
on. 

Dick came down the steps as she ap- 
proached. “ Won’t you come and see the 
window, Susan? It is just in. We were 
speaking of you when you turned the cor- 
ner.” 

With very pink cheeks and a thumping 
heart Susan reached the top step and spoke 
to Dick’s mother. Mrs. Seymour still wore 
black, and it did not require much experience 
to recognize signs of serious illness in her face. 
Her manner was gentle and languid. She 
held Susan’s hand and smiled kindly upon 
her. 

“We have put in a window to Elsie, Susan, 
and I want you to see it, among the first,” she 
said, drawing her towards the door. 

Susan has never forgotten that afternoon; 
how she sat on the chancel step, her hand in 
Mrs. Seymour’s, and gazed at the beautiful 
figure of the Angel of the Resurrection, while 
the Poet played a soft, flowing melody on the 
organ. 

“ You like it? ” Mrs. Seymour asked at 
length. 





“SUSAN HAS NEVER FORGOTTEN THAT AFTERNOON 






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TRIFLES 


101 


“ Oh I ” cried Susan, quite forgetful of her- 
self, “ it reminds me of Elsie when — the 
day—” 

Mrs. Seymour understood and pressed her 
hand. I wanted you to see it, to be one of 
the first,” she repeated; and she added, what 
always seemed so incredible to Susan, that she 
was like Elsie. 

“ I am not really,” she exclaimed. I am 
such a dreadful goose.” And then she was 
overwhelmed at having said so silly a thing. 

Mrs. Seymour smiled. “ Dick and I believe 
nothing of the sort,” she said. “ He told me 
how those beautiful lines of Wordsworth’s re- 
minded you of Elsie, and they have given me 
the greatest pleasure. You are full of a lovely 
and delicate feeling.” 

Combined happiness and shyness quite over- 
whelmed Susan, and it was a relief to have the 
Poet stop his music and come down to speak 
to Mrs. Seymour. While they talked, Mr. 
Bright entered from the vestry with Mr. Sey- 
mour. 

Susan sat by herself and looked at the angel, 
reluctant to leave it. With the late sunshine 
on the chancel windows, and the shadows deep- 


102 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


ening in the church below, it shone forth in a 
wonderful white radiance. St. Mark’s was 
beautiful this afternoon. 

Presently Nettie Tryon and Robin came in, 
and this gave Susan an excuse for lingering 
and talking about Elsie to Nettie. 

I was a little bit of a boy when Elsie went 
to Heaven, but I remember her, don’t I, 
Susan? ” Robin said, sitting in a front pew and 
swinging his heels. 

Mr. and Mrs. Seymour left, and the others 
came over for a nearer view of the window. 
Mr. Bright wished to know how the little Pres- 
byterian, which was his name for Susan, liked 
the Wise Man’s tablet. 

“ I like it, but I’d rather have a window,” 
Susan answered. 

“ You see, Nettie,” said Robin, pointing 
with a grimy finger toward the memorial, “ he 
built his house on a rock instead of on the sand. 
If you build a house on the sand, it tumbles 
down.” 

“ What do you have to do in order to get a 
good foundation, Robin? ” his father asked, 
smiling. 

“ You have to dig,” and Robin went through 


TRIFLES 103 

the motions with such earnestness that his face 
grew red. 

“ Digging, you see, is hard work,” remarked 
Mr. Reynor. 

‘‘ Yes; still you not only get a good founda- 
tion, but you unearth many a jewel by the 
way,” added Mr. Bright. ‘‘ However, don’t 
any of you repeat that, for it is out of my next 
Sunday’s sermon.” 

Upon this friendly and instructive conversa- 
tion entered Miss Cornelia Reynor and her 
boarder. They had been to see the Brocade 
Lady’s cottage, and Mr. Lemoyne suggested 
looking at the church as they passed. Mr. 
Bright joined them and did the honors; the 
others dispersed. 

“ I don’t like that man,” said Dick, as he and 
Susan walked down the street. 

“ Neither do I,” agreed Susan; “ I feel as 
if he were laughing at me, always.” 

“ Why should he laugh at you? ” Dick had 
a way of asking practical questions that made 
one feel a little foolish. 

“ I don’t know. I suppose he thinks I was 
silly on Hallowe’en.” 

“ It was very natural for you to be fright- 
ened. Any one would have been.” 


104 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


“ I don’t like that sort of a turned-up mus- 
tache,” Susan owned. 

“ I don’t mind his mustache, but I saw him 
kick Rex the other day, quite inexcusably. A 
gentleman doesn’t kick a dog, — not one like 
Rex,” said Dick. This unanimity of feeling 
in regard to Mr. Lemoyne added to their 
pleasant sense of friendship. 

Dick went on to say he did like Mr. Reynor. 
There was a lot in him you would never 
guess. 

Silvy had stirred the fire in the dining-room, 
so that it was blazing brightly when Susan got 
home. On the table lay her book, her work- 
basket, the box of mints ; everything was wait- 
ing for her but the afternoon. It was gone. 
Wynkyns, aroused by her entrance, stretched 
himself to the utmost limits and yawned. 

Susan dropped down on the rug. “ Wyn- 
kie, I came so near turning back, and if I 
had — ! It was such a little hard thing, but I 
did it, and I found a jewel. Wynk, it is nice 
to have people like you.” 

Wynkyns made no effort to understand, but 
merely purred comfortably. If Susan was 
happy, who cared for details? 


CHAPTER X 


MISS GRANT 

She was not like Miss Margaret, the sort of 
person you were wild about and fell in love 
with, and dreamed of by day and night, as 
Holliday expressed it. Yet it was impossible 
not to like Miss Grant when you had been 
thrown with her for a time. You began, at 
first unconsciously, to value her friendship and 
to try to live up to her standards. 

She was not beautiful, but there was some- 
thing fine and wholesome about her. She 
looked strong and kind, and was full of a 
breezy independence. Her name, Anne Mary, 
suited her. Her father. Judge Grant, a pop- 
ular and genial gentleman, had always lived in 
an open-handed fashion to the very limit of his 
income. Anne Mary was the oldest child and 
only daughter, and she felt her responsibility 
towards her five younger brothers, who must 
be educated and started in life. Her mother 
105 


106 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


was a semi-invalid, accustomed to all sorts of 
indulgences and luxuries, and though the 
Judge talked about economizing, now Frank 
was in college and Rob in a preparatory school, 
he hardly knew the meaning of the word. So 
Anne Mary decided that she must at least take 
care of herself, and perhaps help with the 
boys. Besides Miss Margaret’s class, she did 
a little tutoring now and then, and was study- 
ing for a degree, Bessie said. 

The Grants were neighbors of the Manns, 
and Bessie knew more about Miss Grant than 
the others did. Besides, as Holliday remarked 
to Susan, Miss Grant certainly seemed to like 
her best. It wasn’t that she showed any par- 
tiality in school hours, but she evidently liked 
Bessie’s company. She singled her out as a 
companion on her country walks, and occa- 
sionally asked favors of her. Bessie was al- 
ways ready to do anything for you, she said 
one day. 

This was perfectly true, though the state- 
ment came at first as a surprise. When Susan 
tore her dress at the picnic, it was Bessie who 
repaired it temporarily. When Robin Bright 
fell and cut his head, Bessie was the one to 


MISS GRANT 


107 


know what to do and do it promptly. When 
Lily upset the ink, Bessie had it nearly all 
soaked up from the rug with blotting paper 
while Holliday was calling Gertie. The trou- 
ble was she so often spoiled her good deeds by 
sharp and egotistical remarks. 

Miss Grant understood Bessie, because she 
had been a plain little girl herself, with a long- 
ing for appreciation. She knew the tempta- 
tion to be critical and sharp at sight of others 
winning, apparently without effort, the praise 
you long for, and perhaps really deserve. 
When she commented on her helpfulness, Bes- 
sie flushed with pleasure and exclaimed, “ I 
like to do things.” 

On those Friday afternoon walks, under the 
influence of friendly companionship, Bessie re- 
vealed her longing to be pretty, and to have 
things like the other girls. At these times it 
was an easy matter to sow a little seed. To 
suggest that after all, in the long run, how- 
ever desirable beauty is, it is kindness and sym- 
pathy that attract, and to add laughingly that 
Bessie herself was at times a little too much 
like the gingerbread into which the cook put 
a spoonful of red pepper by mistake. It would 


108 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


have been delicious with the pepper left out, 
or with just the merest pinch. 

She did not stop here. One day when Dr. 
Mann called to see her mother, Miss Grant fol- 
lowed him to the door and asked about that 
capable little daughter of his. 

“ Do you mean Bessie? ” asked the doctor, 
in surprise. “ She is capable. Her sharp nose 
is into everything. She is the most depend- 
able child we have.” He laughed. 

“ I hope you tell her so sometimes,” Miss 
Grant suggested. 

This set the busy doctor thinking as he drove 
away. Bessie certainly looked after his com- 
fort more than any of the others. Now he 
thought of it he realized how often he heard 
somebody say, “ Oh, Bessie will do it.” He 
said it himself. She was a queer, snappy child. 

Those tiny spades which Miss Grant had 
found at a toy store and converted into talis- 
mans for Hallowe’en, proved a happy thought. 
Holliday set the fashion by tying a bow of 
ribbon on hers and pinning it on her dress. 
The other girls followed suit. Now that they 
no longer had the Wise Man’s gravestone be- 
fore them every day, the spades would remind 


MISS GRANT 


109 


them of their promise to Miss Margaret to 
work faithfully. 

Miss Grant liked the moral of it. It was 
plain and practical, not in the least high flown, 
and capable of numberless helpful applica- 
tions. 

Miss Grant, being the sister of so many 
brothers, knew a great deal about boys. The 
best chum she had was her brother Phil, a mis- 
chievous, irresponsible boy of sixteen, a boon 
companion of Charlie Willard’s. Observing 
how often these two got into mischief on Fri- 
day evenings, she started the Friday Club. 
It was to be social and literary to begin with, 
and anything else, later on, that seemed desira- 
ble. 

Biographies of famous men was their sub- 
ject for the winter, and it was Charlie who dis- 
covered that all the great men they read about 
were diggers ; and then some one made the sug- 
gestion that they call their club “ Spades.” 
It would be an unusual name, and both hu- 
morous and serious as you pleased, and there 
were the badges ready to hand. 

Miss Grant suggested that it would be 
courtesy to ask the permission of the girls to 


110 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


adopt this symbol, as the Wise Man was in a 
way their peculiar property. Masculine dig- 
nity was at first inclined to object. It did not 
wish to be beholden to the girls. On the other 
hand, “ Spades ” was too good a name to sur- 
render. 

“ It’s a Bible story,” cried Charlie. “ They 
haven’t got a corner on the Bible, have 
they? ” 

“ Don’t be a pig, Charlie. Let’s ask them. 
What’s the harm? ” Dick said sensibly. 

They were left to argue it out, and in the 
end good manners and common sense tri- 
umphed, and the little spades became a 
friendly link between the boys and girls. Be- 
fore the winter was over. Thimbles and Spades 
did some good work together. 

The Poet heard about the new club from 
Dick. “ Do you know Miss Grant? ” the lat- 
ter asked. “ She’s dandy.” 

Mr. Reynor replied he had once known 
her, when they were both children, and that 
he understood she was a very brilliant per- 
son. 

Dick agreed that she knew a lot, but it 
wasn’t that you cared so much about. She 


MISS GRANT 


111 


was, well — all right. That was as near as he 
could come to it. 

The Poet’s acquaintance with Miss Grant 
dated back to dancing-school days. Sturdy 
Annie May had laughed at him because he 
couldn’t run as fast as she, and once when he 
slipped and fell on the polished floor, and the 
excitement as well as the hurt brought tears 
to his eyes, she had called, “ Cry baby! ” In 
those days Reggie had hated Annie May, and 
the Poet remembered it and did not particu- 
larly care to meet Miss Grant. 

As they lived in the same part of town and 
had the same friends, that they should meet 
sometime was inevitable. As it was, it chanced 
to be at Miss Seymour’s wedding, early in 
December. 

This was a very grand affair, being also the 
occasion of Miss Marion’s debut. Holliday 
and Lily were asked to be ribbon girls, an 
honor that pleased them greatly and made 
them objects of envy. 

“ Miss Josephine asked them because they 
are pretty and can have lovely dresses,” Bessie 
said bluntly. 

Susan reminded her that Mrs. Lawrence was 


m 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


very intimate with the Seymours, and the 
Boones were distantly related, but Bessie 
tossed her head. 

It was queer and a little uncomfortable, 
Susan felt, to have Holliday on such intimate 
terms with Lily, and to have no part in their 
conferences. But as no other girls of their 
age were asked to the wedding, there was no 
cause to feel slighted. 

Mr. Reynor reluctantly accompanied his sis- 
ter. Miss Grant very cheerfully went with 
her father. The Judge and Miss Cornelia were 
kindred spirits, and quickly spied each other 
out. 

“ How do you do, sir? ” the Judge said to 
the Poet. “ Of course you know my daughter? 
Anne Mary, you know Mr. Reynor? Writing 
much poetry these days? ” 

Although the Poet knew it was no disgrace 
to write verses, he shrank exactly as if it were ; 
but Miss Grant gave him a cordial hand-clasp 
and said nothing about poetry, to his relief. 
What she did say was something about Dick, 
and the new club. Had he heard about 
Spades? With this beginning they got on 
very well. 


MISS GRANT 


113 


On the way home Miss Cornelia said she had 
never seen Anne Mary look so well. Her 
brother answered absently. He was wonder- 
ing if Miss Grant had ever read any of his 
poems. 


CHAPTER XI 


CHRISTMAS TREES 

The bells were ringing for half-past twelve. 
The noonday sun shone warm upon the gar- 
den of Christmas Tree House, and on the 
bench under the bare branches of the ginckgo 
tree, where Susan and Holliday sat, earnestly 
discussing something. 

“ There’s Dick ! ” Holliday exclaimed. 
“ Oh, Dick! can you stop a minute? We have 
a perfectly splendid idea and want to consult 
you.” 

“ Charmed, I’m sure, and flattered,” he 
responded, turning in at the gate. 

“ It is all Holliday’s,” Susan explained. 
“ That ‘ We ’ is just for modesty.” 

Dick placed his books on the ground before 
the girls and sat upon them in the attitude of 
humble listener. 

“ I thought of it in church yesterday,” Holli- 
day began. “ It is strange how you think of 
114 


CHRISTMAS TREES 


115 


things. You know the French motto Miss 
Grant gave us, Susan? ^ II vaut mieuoo 
meriter Vestime des hommes, que leur admira- 
tion/ Holliday liked to air her French on 
occasion. 

Susan nodded. 

“ Well, as I walked to church with Auni 
Nan, I thought of it, and wondered if any one 
was admiring me in my new suit ; and it wasn’t 
at all that I do not believe it is better to merit 
esteem than admiration.” Holliday spoke witH 
much gravity. 

Susan laughed, and Dick said, ‘‘ Pardon me 
if I don’t catch on. I assure you of both my 
esteem and admiration.” 

“ Thank you,” said Holliday. “ I am going 
on to explain how I happened to think of it. 
It was when Mr. Bright gave out a notice 
of the Flower Mission, that Christmas trees 
popped into my head. Susan and I were go- 
ing to trim one for Susie Flynn at the hospital, 
and I thought, why not a lot of trees? At 
least one for each child there. On the hill 
back of Miss Arthur’s there are ever so many 
little fir trees, and I am quite sure she would 
let us have them, for they are going to clea^ 


116 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


that hillside next spring. Now couldn’t some 
of you Spade boys help us? ” 

“ We could go out on the country car, you 
know,” Susan interposed, “ and walk across.” 

“ A sort of a winter picnic, don’t you see? ” 
Holliday added. “ What do you think? ” 

‘‘ It would be dandy fun,” Dick agreed. 
“ Whom do you want? ” 

“ Oh, Tom and Charlie and whoever you 
think. Phil, of course, and we’ll ask Miss 
Grant to chaperon us.” 

“ And if we could build a fire and make 
coffee or something,” cried Susan, “ it would be 
lovely fun.” 

“ If it doesn’t turn freezing cold,” said Dick. 
“ And if our parents and guardians don’t 
rake up a lot of objections,” sighed Holliday. 
“ I can hear them now saying, ‘ Nonsense.’ ” 
The attitude of the parents and guardians 
towards the proposed expedition was very 
much as Holliday anticipated. 

“ Can’t you have enough picnics in summer 
that you must go trailing to the country in 
midwinter, catching your deaths of cold? Lily 
has too delicate a throat for that sort of thing,” 
Mrs. Boone said, stopping the carriage at sight 


CHRISTMAS TREES 


in 


of Holliday and Susan, ‘‘ Let the boys get the 
trees and you girls trim them. I am sure your 
mother doesn t approve, Susan.” 

She didn’t, Susan had to own. She went 
back to the days when Susan had bronchitis 
regularly once a year. “ And you have been 
so wonderfully well for three years. I don’t 
want you to run any risks,” Mrs. Maxwell said. 

“ Really, Holliday, it seems to me it would 
be much cheaper to buy the trees than to get 
ill just at Christmas time,” Mrs. Lawrence 
remarked. “ Of course it is for your father 
to decide.” 

Miss Grant saved the day, and proved her- 
self a powerful ally. She was in the habit of 
taking long country walks, and knew the hill- 
side in question. She also knew the owner of a 
two-room cabin, built for occasional summer 
use, just over the brow of the hill. She could 
get the loan of it for the day, she was confident. 
There they could have a fire and eat their lunch 
in comfort. She was an ardent believer in out- 
of-doors, and not in the least afraid of cold. 
Nothing but a storm ought to interfere, she 
thought. 

This settled it. Mrs. Boone shrugged her 


118 CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

shoulders and asked, “Aren’t young people 
funny? ” 

Mrs. Maxwell said, “ Well, if that is your 
idea of a good time I suppose you can go, 
Susan, if you dress warmly.” 

An ecstatic group with Miss Grant in the 
midst stood at the gate of Christmas Tree 
House, discussing final arrangements one 
afternoon, when the Poet passed. 

“ Oh, Mr. Reynor, don’t you want to go to 
our picnic? ” called Holliday. “ You can play 
with Miss Grant.” 

Miss Grant seconded the invitation with a 
cordial, “ Come along, we’ll be glad to have 
you.” 

Miss Reynor was quite overcome when she 
heard her brother was actually going with those 
ridiculous children to the country. “ Why, 
Reggie, you will catch your death!” she ex- 
claimed. “ Why, you won’t go to picnics in 
summer. What are you thinking of ? ” 

The Poet wasn’t thinking of anything except 
that he wanted to go. His sister’s objections 
made him feel a little shamefaced. He was on 
the point of backing out, when he was called 
to the telephone. 


CHRISTMAS TREES 


119 


Mr. Reynor,” said Miss Grant’s voice, 
‘‘ may I count on you to bring matches? They 
are so apt to be forgotten. And a hatchet, too, 
if you will. Very well, we’ll see you to-morrow 
at ten.” 

A hatehet and matches! The Poet felt an 
absurd thrill. F or the moment he was a small 
boy again, doing some of the things he had 
never been allowed to do. He whistled gayly 
as he slipped a box of matches in his over- 
coat pocket, to be sure of them, and went in 
search of a hatchet. He was going if it killed 
him. 

As it turned out it didn’t kill anybody. 'Noi 
even a cold resulted, though Charlie declared 
that Grandma thought the expedition had 
undermined Lily’s constitution and would 
show its effect later. 

The day was exactly right, frosty but bright. 
They went out on the country car, and the walk 
across the meadows and up the hill put every- 
body in a delightful glow. Even the Poet’s 
cheeks were rosy. Miss Grant managed her 
forces like a general. Each one had something 
to carry, and no one was burdened, and there 
in the heart of the country they might laugh 


120 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


and sing and race, forgetful of tiresome, if 
necessary, conventions. 

“ I do like to do imusual things,” Holliday 
exclaimed, dropping down on the step while 
the Poet, who had been entrusted with the key, 
unlocked the cabin door. “ Miss Grant is a 
perfect angel to think of this.” 

“ Hurrah for Miss Grant! ” cried Tom, wav- 
ing aloft some extra wraps Mrs. Boone had in- 
sisted upon sending. 

A chorus of hurrahs arose. “ And hurrah 
for the prime minister,” added Charlie, mean- 
ing Mr. Reynor, who was so bent on being 
useful it was funny. 

“ Clearly your lungs are in good condition, 
if you can yell like this after climbing a hill,” 
Miss Grant said, bringing up the rear with 
Lily and Nettie. 

And now the cabin, so still and deserted 
a few moments ago, fairly overflowed with 
laughter and bustle, as the boys brought in 
wood and the girls piled the lunch boxes on the 
table. When the fire was roaring merrily 
and a volunteer committee consisting of Bes- 
sie and Nettie and Mr. Reynor had been in- 


CHRISTMAS TREES 


m 

stalled to watch it and make ready for lunch, 
the rest scattered over the hill in search of 
trees. 

It took time to find and cut a dozen or more 
of these, and nearly two hours passed before 
the woodmen and maids came gayly back to 
the cabin with their fragrant burdens. 

“ And people told us it would be just as 
much fun to buy them ! ” Susan exclaimed, 
bending to warm her hands at the fire. 

“ Aren’t you glad your grandmother let you 
come, Lil? ” asked Holliday. 

“ Yes, indeed, and my tree is the prettiest of 
all. Phil cut it. I wish I had a ribbon or some- 
thing to tie on it, so I’ll know it. I don’t want 
any one else to trim it,” answered Lily. 

“ Here’s a red string; won’t that do? ” asked 
Bessie, who had been having a beautiful time 
putting the cabin in order and making ready 
for lunch, which was now set forth in appetiz- 
ing array upon the rustic table. . Miss Grant 
meanwhile presided over the coffee-pot, from 
which arose an intoxicating fragrance. 

The fire roared and crackled, altogether in 
the spirit of the occasion ; the winter sun shone 
in through the small-paned windows, each one 


1^2 CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

of which framed a different picture of brown 
hillside and bare branches against the sky. 

“ It is such fun to do things for yourself, as 
Holliday says,” sighed Nettie, happily, empty- 
ing a bottle of olives into a wooden plate. 

“ I have been taught it is more so to do for 
others, so please pass the sandwiches before I 
die,” begged Charlie, dropping down on the 
floor by the hearth. 

‘‘ Charlie hurt his elbow, our only casualty 
thus far,” Phil explained, transmitting the 
desired refreshment. 

‘‘ I have plenty of Pond’s Extract and 
bandages. You had better let me see it, 
Charlie,” said Miss Grant. 

He insisted that it was nothing, and as Tom 
said, it did not affect his appetite to any ap- 
preciable extent. 

As honored chaperons. Miss Grant and the 
Poet sat in the window seat with a small table 
before them, and were waited upon. The boys 
and girls helped themselves and stood or sat 
around the fire as it pleased them. 

“ I believe I’d like to live in this sort of a 
place,” remarked Dick. “ How about you, 
Susan? ” tossing her a big red apple. 


CHRISTMAS TREES 


123 


Susan had found a three-legged stool some- 
where, and what she called a lovely corner, 
being, Holliday pointed out, the greatest girl 
for corners. 

“ Oh, is Susan to decide it? ” asked Nettie 
Tryon, mischievously. 

‘‘ That reminds me,” said Phil, “ have you 
heard the latest on Tom? He spelled ‘ holiday ’ 
with two I’s, and when Professor Johns pointed 
it out, he said he always spelled it that way.” 

There was much laughter over this, as Tom’s 
admiration for Holliday was no secret. Susan 
was privately deeply obliged to Phil for divert- 
ing attention from her. 

“ It is something like preferring ‘ parlor ’ 
with ‘ u ’ in it, isn’t it? ” inquired the Poet, ac- 
cepting a fourth sandwich. “ Are you sure I 
am not eating more than my share? ” 

“ Miss Arthur sent over a gallon of milk and 
a cake, so I think there will be nourishment 
enough for all,” Miss Grant replied. 

“ But why is Holliday like a parlor? ” asked 
Lily, opening her eyes. 

‘‘ Is that a conundrum, Lil? ” Charlie asked. 
‘‘ Because she is more ornamental than useful.” 

‘‘ Charlie! how ungallant! You should have 


IM CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

said both ornamental and useful,” Miss Grant 
exclaimed. 

“ Never mind, I have to get even with Holli- 
day. She said I was a villain.” 

“ Why, Charlie Willard, I never did. 
However, if the cap fits — ” 

“What are you talking about?” Lily 
wanted to know. 

“ Say, Lily Ann, do you remember the 
time when Uncle Ben was ill and you heard 
Grandma say the doctors were working in the 
dark, and you wanted to know why they didn’t 
light the gas? ” 

“ I don’t care,” said Lily. “ That was a long 
time ago.” 

“ Did you know,” continued Charlie, “ that 
Dick is a poet? He has caught it from Mr. 
Reynor. Let me see, how does it go? 

* Lives of great men all remind us 
That our task is very big, 

If a name weM leave behind us, 

We must each learn how to dig/ ** 

And so the fun went on, with everybody 
talking and laughing at once, and long before 
anybody was ready the short afternoon gave 
notice that it would soon be gone. 


CHRISTMAS TREES 


1^5 


On the walk back to the station the Poet dis- 
covered that Miss Grant had read some of his 
verses. The wintry sunset recalled a poem she 
particularly cared for. “ That is the mood 
I like, courageous and hopeful,” she said. 
“ Now sometimes you are a bit despondent, 
and — well, almost hopeless.” 

The Poet, who was very sensitive, felt hurt 
for a minute. 

You don’t mind my saying so, I hope? ” 
she asked. 

“ Perhaps I do,” he owned; then he laughed 
and asked if she remembered calling him a 
cry baby once? 

She had not the slightest recollection of it, 
and was inclined to doubt his memory. “ I 
didn’t mean anything of the kind just now,” 
she added. It is only that I do love courage.” 

Down the lane came the laughing flock of 
girls and boys, who had been to Miss Arthur’s 
to return the milk can with thanks. “ Haven’t 
we all had a glorious time! ” she said. “ I’d 
like to have a country school for city children 
one of these days.” 


CHAPTER XII 

HOLIDAYS [SUSAN WRITES] 

Christmas holidays are all pretty much 
alike, but this year there was more than usual 
going on. In the first place the week before 
Christmas we had our lovely winter picnic, 
which was more fun than anything we have 
ever done. Then we had a meeting in the 
school-room one evening to trim our trees for 
the children at the hospital. They were per- 
fect beauties. 

On Christmas Eve we carried them to the 
hospital after dark, and it was fun marching 
through the street, with the Christmas feeling 
in the air, and people turning to look at us and 
wonder what we were doing. 

Dick and Holliday walked home with me 
afterward, and Holliday said, “ Isn’t it too 
bad that somebody is always ill? Doesn’t it 
seem as if at Christmas everybody ought to be 
happy? ” 


126 


HOLIDAYS 


m 

For all she is so full of fun, she thinks of 
such things, sometimes. Dick said he supposed 
we ought not to worry about it, but just do 
what we could to help, and it was not long 
before Holliday cheered up. 

There was only just time to dress for Lily’s 
party, which is always on Christmas Eve, if 
possible. It is the event of the season, with the 
grandest tree and a dance afterwards. I wore 
my dotted muslin over blue and the beautiful 
moire sash Aunt Emily sent me. 

‘‘ I never saw Bessie look so nice. She had 
on a new dress that her father bought for her. 
Her mother had Miss Tillie make it, and it 
was a complete surprise to her. It is old rose, 
and has a lovely lace collar that Mrs. Boone 
gave Bessie. You could see how pleased she 
was. Holliday and Bessie with Tom and Dick 
and Phil stopped for me, and Mother made 
the girls take off their coats so she could see 
how they looked. Holliday was all white, with 
a string of pearls around her throat and a 
spray of holly pinned on one shoulder. She 
always is lovelier than anybody else. 

The first person I saw when we went down- 
stairs was Aline Arthur, who is at home for 


ns 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


the holidays. She looked very well, I thought, 
and I heard somebody say to Mrs. Boone, 
“ What a striking girl! ” 

She seemed glad to see us, and much more 
sociable than she used to be. She asked about 
the hospital, and said she still considered her- 
self a member of our Thimble Circle, and was 
going to give us a donation from her Christmas 
money, and perhaps make some paper dolls for 
the bazaar. 

Holliday said that would be splendid, and 
that Aline must take part in the Colonial Tea 
next week. Aline seemed pleased with the idea 
and said she would if she could get up a 
costume in time. 

Clarice came in late. She is spending the 
holidays with a friend who lives near the school. 
Aline said, “ Well, Clarice, I thought you’d 
be married by this time.” 

Clarice laughed and looked rather silly, and 
Charlie exclaimed, “ Oh, Aline, you ought to 
see her beau,” and with both hands he began 
to twist an imaginary mustache. Everybody 
knew what he meant, and at that very moment 
Mr. Lemoyne appeared at the door. Mrs. 
Boone likes him and asked him to come over 


HOLIDAYS 


129 


with Miss Cornelia, if he cared for a young 
people’s party. 

Clarice’s cheeks were unusually pink, and it 
was very becoming to her, but Bessie whispered 
to me that it was rouge. I wonder if it was? 
I shouldn’t think she would do a thing like that. 

I didn’t see any more of Clarice or of Mr. 
Lemoyne either, and forgot all about them, tiU 
Charlie said they were spooning in the library. 
I don’t see why people want to be so silly. 

Holliday gave an afternoon tea for both 
girls and boys ; I had a spend-the-day luncheon 
for Aline and our old set, with Nettie of course, 
and Miss Arthur invited us all out there. 

Aline asked us if we remembered about the 
lost bonds. Of course I couldn’t forget them, 
for Joe and I found the receipt that proved 
Mr. Kennedy had not lost them. Then she 
told us about going to see Mrs. Carrol last 
summer. Aline says she wasn’t crazy but had 
lost her memory, and once in a while for a few 
minutes she seemed to get it back. One day 
she spoke to Aline about the bonds. She said, 
“ I am going to tell you where they are, and 
you must go and get them.” Then her memory 
failed, and she forgot what she had been saying. 


180 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


Aline told her nurse. Miss Avery, about the 
bonds, and asked her, if Mrs. Carrol ever men- 
tioned them again, to try to find out something 
more. Miss Avery said she would, but Mrs. 
Carrol never spoke of them again. If the 
bonds were found now. Aline says they would 
go to the hospital. 

She used to say she was going to be an artist, 
but now she wants to be a trained nurse. She 
says Miss Avery told her a great deal about it, 
and she thinks it a noble profession, and more 
useful than art. 

The Colonial Tea, for the benefit of the 
hospital, was given at Christmas Tree House, 
because Miss Cornelia Reynor was ill. Holli- 
day said she was glad, for it was just that much 
more atmosphere of the right kind for Miss 
Margaret. 

The house was perfectly beautiful in its 
Christmas decorations. The boys helped us, 
and Miss Cornelia sent Mr. Lemoyne over, as 
she couldn’t do anything; and I must own, 
though I don’t like him, that he has many good 
ideas. 

The tables were placed in the east parlor and 
dining-room, and the rest of the house was aU 



“THE HOUSE WAS PERFECTLY BEAUTIFUL IN ITS 
CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS.” 




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HOLIDAYS 


131 


open. Miss Carrie Mann had a candy table in 
the hall, and sold what she called colonial 
fudge. It is strange how pretty even plain 
people look with powdered hair. The girls 
were all lovely, everybody said. I wore a fichu 
that belonged to my great-great-grandmother. 
The rest of my costume was chintz. 

The tea was a great success, for lots of 
people came. Some, I suppose, out of curiosity 
to see the house which has been so much talked 
about. Our hours were from five to nine, and 
about seven there came a lull. As Aline 
wanted to see the school-room, Holliday said 
this was a good time, so a number of us went 
down. Mr. Lemoyne, who was talking to Miss 
Carrie and heard us say we were going to the 
school-room, said he wanted to see it, too, and 
followed. 

Aline said it used to be old Mr. Clifford’s 
office, but I think she was disappointed in the 
room. We had told her how nice it was, but 
without any fire, and in the gaslight, it looked 
rather cheerless. Holliday showed her the 
chimney cupboard, and Mr. Lemoyne said he 
adored cupboards and that the mantel was 
very nice. Then suddenly he went to the 


132 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


window, saying he thought the shutter was not 
securely fastened, and he put up the sash and 
worked with it for a few minutes. There had 
been several burglar scares in the neighbor- 
hood, and he said Parker ought to be more 
careful. 

We went upstairs again and thought no 
more about the school-room till Aline had to 
go, about nine o’clock. Then she couldn’t find 
her fan, which was an old-fashioned one be- 
longing to her aunt. Holliday thought she 
might have left it in the school-room and sent 
Gertie for it. 

Presently Gertie came back looking fright- 
ened and said the door was locked on the in- 
side. Mr. Heywood, who was standing with 
us in the hall at the time, said, ‘‘ Nonsense, it 
can’t be,” but he went down to investigate, and 
some of us followed. Sure enough, it was 
locked. He and Parker, the man, and Dick, 
who was with us, went around outside then, 
and found a shutter open, which was strange 
when Mr. Lemoyne had been so careful to 
fasten it. Dick climbed in the window and 
lighted the gas and unlocked the door, but the 
burglar, if it was one, had escaped. 


HOLIDAYS 


133 


Mr. Lemoyne, who was smoking on the 
Reynors’ front porch, because Miss Cornelia 
can’t bear the odor of tobacco, came over to ask 
what the trouble was. He said with so many 
strangers in the house it would have been easy 
enough for a thief to slip in. 

Mr. Heywood asked why in the world would 
he lock himself in the school-room? And Mr. 
Lemoyne said he might have been hiding there 
till everybody was in bed, and to guard against 
surprise, had locked the door. 

This sounded quite possible. Mr. Heywood 
said not to let Mrs. Lawrence know anything 
about it. Just then Dick picked up Holliday’s 
purse from the piano where she had left it. 
She is rather careless about money. In it was 
a five-dollar gold piece. It lay there in plain 
sight ; so the wonder was, if it was a thief, why 
he hadn’t taken the purse. 

“ Do you think he is hiding somewhere in 
the house now? ” Holliday asked, looking 
rather frightened. 

“ He would have to be a pretty smart 
burglar to lock a door behind him on the in- 
side,” Dick told her. 


134 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


“ No,” said Mr. Lemoyne, “ he must have 
escaped through the window.” 

“ That man makes me tired,” Dick whis- 
pered to me. “ He knows so much.” 

Mr. Heywood was very much annoyed. He 
said he should never have allowed us to have 
the tea there; and that the responsibility of 
such a house was something he would never 
again assume. And he ordered us all upstairs, 
just as if it was our fault, Holliday said. At 
any rate I was glad no one could blame my 
imagination this time. 

Aline had left her fan in the library after all. 
But for it, no one would have gone near the 
school-room again that night. What would 
have happened, I wonder? 

We made nearly thirty dollars, which was 
doing very well, I think, besides the fun we 
had. The burglar was the only blot on the 
evening and we have agreed not to say any- 
thing about it, but Holliday says her father 
has reported it to the police. 

The queerest thing is what Holliday dis- 
covered the next day when she went to get 
some papers out of the chimney cupboard. 
Everything on the bottom shelf had been 


HOLIDAYS 


135 


moved to the top one, and nobody in the house 
had done it, either. After this she is going to 
keep it locked, she says. 

Dick says it seems as if somebody were try- 
ing to play rather foolish practical jokes. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THINGS CONTINUE TO HAPPEN 

“ I SHOULD like to have a real villain and a 
secret drawer,” said Holliday. “ It would 
make our story so interesting.” 

Susan laughed. “ It seems to me you nearly 
always get what you wish, but a real villain 
might be very disagreeable. Won’t the myste- 
rious burglar do? ” 

“ I have been thinking about the bonds ever 
since Aline was here,” Holliday continued, 
“ but when I mention them Papa laughs and 
says Mrs. Carrol made away with them long 
ago. If they were in Christmas Tree House, 
the Colonel would have found them. I re- 
minded him how often things have been found 
under floors, but he said what is true, that we 
can’t be taking up floors that do not belong 
to us.” 

The two girls were walking along North 
Street, having been to see the Brocade Lady 
136 


THINGS CONTINUE TO HAPPEN 137 

and take her a message from Miss Margaret’s 
last letter. The Brocade Lady’s son had been 
very ill, and as she was of course closely con- 
fined to the house, in consequence, she was 
greatly interested to hear all about their holi- 
day doings, as well as other news. She was 
particularly interested in Miss Beynor’s 
boarder, as she still called Mr. Lemoyne. Her 
son, she said, had heard his voice the day Miss 
Cornelia brought him to see the cottage, and 
insisted that he knew it, but in his memory it 
was not associated with the name Lemoyne. 

‘‘ I wonder if we shall ever find out who B. 
A. is?” Holliday said. ‘‘ Sometimes I think 
I’ll tell him about it, just for fun, and yet 
I don’t exactly like to.” 

‘‘ Oh, no, I wouldn’t,” Susan answered. ‘‘ It 
was rather like reading another person’s letter, 
though we did not mean to. He might be dis- 
agreeable.” 

“ I had lots of fun teasing Clarice. I told 
her to ask him- — that is, I dared her — ^who B. 
A. is,” laughed Holliday. 

When Susan ran upstairs at home a few 
minutes later, Sam, Silvy’s husband, was 
bringing down a trunk from the attic. “ Why, 


138 CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

Mother,” she asked in surprise, who is going 
away? ” 

Mrs. Maxwell had a paper and pencil in 
her hand, and a perplexed look on her face. 
“ Put it there at the foot of the bed,” she said 
to Sam. Then to Susan, ‘‘ I have just had a 
letter from Cousin Alice telling me that Aunt 
Emily has broken her ankle. That means I 
must go and help take care of Grandma. 
Cousin Alice has to leave next week. For- 
tunately she can stay till Wednesday, so if I 
go on Monday I shall get there in time.” 

“ Oh, Mother, I am so sorry about Aunt 
Emily! But what am I to do? ” 

‘‘ That is what is puzzling me. If it were 
not for that long business trip your father has 
to take, you could stay here with him and 
Silvy, but that is out of the question. Miss 
Cornelia Reynor would take you in, I am 
sure, if ” 

“Oh, Mother! I couldn’t, really and 
honestly I’d rather — I don’t know what I 
would not rather do,” Susan cried. “ I 
couldn’t stay in the house with that horrid 
man! Why can’t I stay with Holliday? I 
am sure she will want me.” 


THINGS CONTINUE TO HAPPEN 139 


‘‘ Mrs. Lawrence has a house full of 
guests. It might not be convenient. You 
are silly about Mr. Lemoyne, Susan. You 
probably would not see him except at the 
table.” 

It was finally left to be decided when 
Father came in, and Susan went to put away 
her things. The sight of the little spade hang- 
ing beside the glass of her dressing-table re- 
minded her that here was a hard thing she 
ought to meet bravely. 

“ Mother,” she said, going back to Mrs. 
Maxwell’s door, “ if you think it is the only 
thing. I’ll try to be willing to go to Miss 
Cornelia’s.” 

But, after all, this martyrdom was not re- 
quired of her, for in the midst of their 
planning Silvy brought in Mrs. Lawrence’s 
card. Sam was washing the parlor windows, 
so the lady had to be shown into the dining- 
room. It was provoking that things always 
happened so, Mrs. Maxwell said. When they 
went down Mrs. Lawrence sat in Father’s 
rather shabby chair, and Wynk by her side 
was investigating some lovely black fur, not 
unlike his own coat, which along with the out- 


140 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


of-door freshness gave out a faint fragrance 
of violets. 

Mrs. Lawrence had heard that Mrs. Max- 
well was going to Philadelphia, — Mr. Hey- 
wood had met Mr. Maxwell, — and she had 
come in person to insist that Susan was to stay 
with them. There was plenty of room; the 
guests made no difference. Susan was no 
trouble. She loved to have her with Holliday, 
and so on. There was no resisting her. 

As they went upstairs after she had gone, 
Mrs. Maxwell said, “ I really must have 
Father’s chair covered in the spring, Susan. 
I did not realize it was so forlorn.” Somehow, 
in Mrs. Lawrence’s presence, you were always 
reminded of defects. 

But what joy to be going to stay with Holli- 
day! Half an hour later that young person 
came flying over in wild excitement, having 
just heard the news. “ It really seems as if 
lovely things never would stop happening this 
winter,” she exclaimed. 

The two or three days that intervened be- 
fore Mrs. Maxwell’s departure were full of 
instructions to Susan not to forget this and 
to be certain to remember that. There seemed 


THINGS CONTINUE TO HAPPEN 141 


to be a difference between remembering and 
not forgetting. 

“ Your dotted muslin with the pink and 
blue slips is here in the bottom drawer of my 
bureau, Susan, if you need it at any time. 
Silvy will be on the place and will do your 
laundry. Miss Tillie has promised to finish 
your rosebud challis next week, but I am 
afraid to trust her to match it with ribbon. I 
wish I had time to attend to it. You must 
do it yourself. Get samples and ask Mrs. 
Lawrence. It ought to be the deepest shade 
of pink, if you can find it.” 

“ Mother, I shan’t need that dress, I’m 
sure,” said Susan. “ You know we won’t be 
having any more parties.” 

“You will need it in the spring, and it will 
do no hurt to have it now. I want you to look 
nice, and some occasion may arise. You can 
consider it a birthday present.” 

It was rather an ordeal to be deserted by 
both parents at once. Mr. Maxwell found he 
could accompany his wife as far as Wash- 
ington, and so left a day or two earlier than 
he had intended. Susan insisted upon going 
to the station, but on the way she felt the lump 


142 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


in her throat, which she had been able to ignore 
all morning, growing larger and larger. The 
sight of Holliday and Dick waiting on the 
platform was a great help. She had a horror 
of crying in public and this, added to the 
presence of her friends, bolstered up her self- 
control considerably. She was very silent, 
that was all. 

And it was great fun to be staying at Christ- 
mas Tree House; to run home to speak to 
Silvy and pat Wynk, as a visitor; to see the 
storm doors closed and the blinds down; to go 
shopping with Lily in the carriage, with her 
sample of challis to match on her own responsi- 
bility, and then to Miss Tillie to be fitted. 

Miss Tillie was becoming quite a dress- 
maker, having lately taken in an assistant. 
She didn’t go out any longer to sew. While 
Susan’s dress was being tried on. Gray 
Brother, Susie Flynn’s cat, sat on the window 
sill and watched. Holliday amused herself 
writing a letter from him to Susie, while she 
waited. He described Susan’s dress and how 
pretty she looked in it, but said he preferred 
her in blue, the color of her eyes. He told his 
little mistress how much he missed her and said 


THINGS CONTINUE TO HAPPEN 143 


he would come to see her, but he had heard they 
didn’t admit cats. At the end of this effusion 
Gray Brother was with difficulty induced to 
make his mark. Then his tormentors went to 
see Susie at the hospital. 

Susie in her little white bed, with a heavy 
weight hanging at the foot of it, smiled and 
clapped her hands at the note. She was a 
happy soul, who enjoyed to the full every 
small pleasure that came her way. Although 
the Christmas trees which had been such a 
delight to the ward had by this time been 
taken way, the children were still talking about 
them and treasuring the gifts from them. 

“ Next Christmas maybe I’ll be walking 
’round,” Susie said confidently. 

It made you ashamed that you were ever 
cross or unhappy, Susan thought, as she went 
home with Holliday. Suppose instead of try- 
ing on a rosebud challis you had to lie in bed 
with a weight tied to you, for ever so long ! But 
it was pleasant to think that you had a part in 
helping to make such patient little sufferers as 
Susie, straight and well. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE KEY OF THE CUPBOARD 

‘‘ Susan, I can’t think what I have done 
with the key of the chimney cupboard.” 
There was a note of anxiety in Holliday’s 
voice that aroused Susan from her dreamy 
absorption in the scene aroimd her. 

They sat in the front row of the dress circle. 
Swift-footed ushers were handling coupons 
and pushing down seats for the stream of peo- 
ple rapidly filling the theater. The orchestra 
was playing, and an atmosphere of happy an- 
ticipation pervaded the place. 

It was aU new to Susan, who had never been 
to the theater before. Mother did not approve 
of it for little girls. There was time enough, 
she had always said. Most of the other girls 
went frequently to Saturday matinees. Susan 
had listened eagerly to their descriptions of 
what they saw, and looked forward to the time 
when Mother would think she was old enough. 
Suddenly and unexpectedly that time had 
come. 


144 


THE KEY OF THE CUPBOARD 145 


“ Of course you must see Henry Irving in 
the ‘ Merchant of Venice/ ” Mrs. Lawrence 
said, and it seemed to Susan’s joyful surprise 
that Mother thought so too, so here she was in 
the front row of the dress circle, part and 
parcel of the brilliant scene. 

Holliday had the air of an old and ex- 
perienced theater-goer. Susan felt a queer 
sort of timidity about bowing to persons she 
recognized, but HoUiday nodded right and 
left, and even waved her hand to Miss Marion 
Seymour in one of the lower boxes. Marion 
was giving a box party, she explained, and 
added that you could not see half so well in 
one of those stage boxes. 

“Why do they sit there, then?” Susan 
asked. 

“ Oh, it is fashionable and costs a lot,” Holli- 
day answered. “ There are Miss Carrie Mann 
and Miss Grant in the balcony.” 

Susan asked if it was nice up there? Holli- 
day didn’t know. It was cheaper. The dress 
circle was the best, that is, unless you wanted 
to be very near, but then you saw the make-up 
too plainly. 

Susan felt a complacent satisfaction in 


146 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


occupying one of the best seats. The best of 
everything seemed to be the motto at the Hey- 
woods’. She gave herself up to the full enjoy- 
ment of the occasion, and was in no haste for 
the curtain to rise. Then came Holliday’s 
sudden and somewhat worried announcement 
about the key. 

Since the occasion of the Colonial Tea, 
Holliday had chosen to keep the cupboard 
locked and to carry the key about with her. 
It was always tumbling out of her work-bag 
or her pocketbook ; sometimes she even pinned 
it on her dress. As it was a large brass key, 
it was not exactly ornamental; nor was there 
usually anything of much value in the cup- 
board, to make it necessary to keep it locked. 
It was merely one of her whims. She liked 
to carry keys. 

‘‘ The trouble is I have locked up that art 
book there. The one with the Greek statuary 
in it, that I was showing to Miss Grant in class 
yesterday. If Papa discovers it he will scold 
dreadfully. He is so particular about the 
Colonel’s books.” 

“ I thought the bookcases were always 
locked,” said Susan. 


THE KEY OF THE CUPBOARD 147 


“ THey are, but I know where the keys are. 
I wanted so much to show Miss Grant that 
picture of the Venus of Milo, and neither 
Papa nor Aunt Nan was there to ask. I 
meant to take it back the minute class was 
over, and in the meantime I locked it in the 
cupboard. Then I forgot all about it. You 
see I took the greatest care of it.” 

“ When did you miss the key? Just this 
minute?” Susan asked. 

“ The statuary on the curtain reminded me 
of Venus, and I remembered I had not put the 
book back; then I began to wonder where the 
key was. This morning when I was looking 
for my gold thimble I emptied my work-bag 
and my hand-bag on the bed, and though I 
wasn’t thinking of it then, I am certain there 
wasn’t any key, but I have a queer feeling 
that I saw it somewhere.” 

Here the lights went down suddenly and the 
curtain rose upon a street in Venice, and 
there was so much to think of and talk of be- 
tween acts, that it was not until it fell finally 
upon the happy last scene, with lovers united 
and Antonio’s ships come safe to land, that 
Holliday thought of her lost key again. 


148 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


Susan put on her hat and coat in a kind of 
dream. Holliday laughed at her and told her 
to wake up. ‘‘ Isn’t Portia lovely? She is so 
clever. I like her better than Juliet; don’t 
you? ” 

Susan liked her better than anybody just 
then. Nothing else seemed worth consider- 
ing. 

As they moved slowly with the crowd in the 
lobby, Holliday said, “ I remember now. I 
dropped that key at Browinski’s yesterday. I 
had it in my coat pocket. It fell on the floor 
when I took out my handkerchief. I remember 
picking it up and thinking that was not a good 
way to carry it, and that is all. Let me see. 
Mr. Lemoyne came in; Lily was buying 
chocolate drops and he asked her if she wasn’t 
sweet enough? or something of the kind,” she 
went on, feeling about as people do when they 
try to recall half-forgotten things. 

Susan, returning with difficulty from 
Venice, remembered that Mr. Lemoyne had 
asked some silly question and that Holliday 
and Lily would stop to talk to him, while she 
waited impatiently at the door. 

Holliday stopped the carriage at Browinski’s 


THE KEY OF THE CUPBOARD 149 


on the way home, and ran in to ask if any one 
had seen her key. Miss Carrie was the only 
one of the clerks who had. She remembered 
that Holliday had laid it on the counter while 
she fastened her glove, but that was all. She 
had not noticed it afterwards. 

When with Gertie’s help a thorough search 
had been made at home, to no avail, Holliday 
decided there was nothing for it but to con- 
fess. “ For if Papa discovers the book is gone 
and asks about it, he will be ever so much 
crosser than if I tell him,” she said. 

She was such a plausible penitent with such 
a number of good reasons for her disobedience, 
and so distractingly pretty as she made her 
confession, that Mr. Heywood, who chanced to 
be in a very good humor, was disposed to treat 
it lightly. The book was safe, he supposed, 
and on Monday he would send for a locksmith. 
But she must understand that books were not 
to be taken from the library. To impress it 
upon her she might go without candy for a 
week. 

Holliday joyfully accepted this severe pun- 
ishment. It set her conscience quite at ease. 

Marion and Dick Seymour came over to 


150 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


dinner that evening, and the incident of the 
lost key was mentioned. Marion suggested 
that perhaps Mr. Lemoyne had seen it. 

“ I saw Mr. Lemoyne this morning in a 
little hardware shop ever so far up town,” 
Dick said. “ I was riding in from the park and 
stopped to see if by chance I could get a cer- 
tain kind of bolt. He asked what I was doing 
there, almost as if he thought I had no business 
to be there. There is something I don’t like 
about that man.” 

‘‘ You were surprised to see him; why should 
not he be surprised to see you? ” asked his 
sister. 

After this the conversation turned to “ The 
Merchant of Venice.” To Susan’s surprise 
Dick’s interest centered in Shylock and the 
way in which the character had been inter- 
preted. To her Shylock was only to be toler- 
ated as a necessary part of the play, in which 
Portia and Portia alone was star. Of course 
you were a little sorry for Shylock in the end, 
she owned. Holliday and Dick agreed that he 
got exactly what he deserved, but Susan said 
that didn’t keep you from feeling sorry. 

On Monday morning one of the servants 


THE KEY OF THE CUPBOARD 151 


found the lost key on the front steps. This 
was strange. Surely it could not have been 
there all the time. Yet things have a strange 
way of hiding in plain sight sometimes. But 
for what followed later on in the winter it 
would have remained a trifling incident. 


CHAPTER XV 


UPS AND DOWNS 

It is strange how happy you can be one 
minute and how unhappy the next. Susan sat 
on the window sill and looked out into the 
garden, where the magnolia tree was shivering 
in the cold wind. That is, her eyes were turned 
in this direction, but the tears that filled them 
made everything a blur. She knew she was 
going to cry, and so had run away from 
Gertie’s sharp glance. A great ocean of 
homesickness engulfed her. 

They were lovely to her, but she didn’t be- 
long really. She was not the center of things 
as she was in her own home world. She did 
not put it just so, but this was really the 
trouble. Holliday had gone somewhere with 
her father, and Susan had planned to go to 
see Susie Flynn and then stop at home to see 
Silvy and Wynk, and get something she 
needed. As it was early she sat down a minute 
in the library to look at a new magazine. In 
152 


UPS AND DOWNS 


153 


the drawing-room Mrs. Lawrence was talking 
to a caller. Now and then a word came to her. 

Presently the voices sounded nearer. The 
caller was probably leaving and they had risen. 
“ No,” she heard Mrs. Lawrence say, “ I shall 
not stay more than two weeks. I am unwill- 
ing to have Holliday’s lessons interrupted any 
longer. No, I have not been in New Orleans 
for some years.” They passed into the hall 
and Susan heard no more, but this was enough. 

New Orleans. Two weeks. Then this was 
what Holliday had meant that morning when 
she came dancing iiito the school-room, an- 
nouncing, ‘‘ I know something I’m not going 
to tell! ” 

‘‘ Is it something nice? ” Susan had asked. 

“ Nice is a feeble word, my child. It is 
great! ” 

“ Why not tell, then? ” 

“ Because it is a secret that I happened to 
discover, and I promised not to reveal it.” 

“ Now Christmas is over I don’t see what it 
can be that is so exciting,” said Susan. 

‘‘ There are other holidays besides Christ- 
mas, my child; but I shall not utter another 
word. I almost told,” and Holliday had 


154 CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

danced out of the room with her hands over her 
mouth. 

It was plain now. They were going to 
Mardi Gras. And what was to become of her ? 
She knew, of course, that these kind friends 
would not turn her out into the cold world, but 
they might have told her. Holliday did not 
care, she was simply thinking of her own 
pleasure. Her unhappiness grew and grew as 
she dwelt upon it. Perhaps they would want 
her to go to Miss Reynor’s. Well, she would 
not do it. She would go to Silvy, at home. 

Susan stole upstairs, carefully avoiding 
Gertie, who was sewing in Holliday’s room. 
She put on her things, and then crept quietly 
out of the house. The cold air was pleasant 
on her hot face, and the sight of the sky, gray 
though it was to-day, soothed her. Perhaps 
she was a goose to mind it so much. 

She went in at the side gate and ran around 
to the kitchen door. Yes, Silvy was there, 
mixing something in a yellow bowl, singing 
to herself. Wynk with his paws tucked under 
him was dozing on the window sill beside 
a blooming geranium. Everything was in 
beautiful order; the stove freshly polished, 


UPS AND DOWNS 


155 


clean scalloped paper on the shelves, and Silvy 
singing her favorite song, the burden of which 
was: 

“I wish I was in heaven settin’ down.” 

“ Oh, Silvy! ” cried Susan. 

“For the land’s sake!” said Silvy, break- 
ing off in the middle of her wish. “ Y ou are 
just in time to cut out the cookies if you want 
to.” 

“ I’d love to. Are you glad to see me, 
Wynk? ” Susan laid her cheek against his soft 
fur. “ Yes, Silvy, I’m so glad you are making 
some.” 

Wynk was as glad as a lazy, well-fed cat can 
be to see an old friend. He purred loudly 
and rubbed his head against her hand. The 
richness and ease of life in Christmas Tree 
House were very delightful, but this familiar, 
homelike kitchen was what Susan cared most 
for, just now. 

“ There’s an apron of your ma’s in the store- 
room,” Silvy said, going back to her beating 
and her song. 

Somehow the sight of that apron brought 
tears again. Silvy, coming to look for her. 


156 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


found her standing behind the door with her 
face buried in its folds. “ Oh, I wish I could 
stay here with you, Silvy,” she cried; and then 
in response to Silvy’s solicitous questions, she 
sobbed out her grievance. “ They are all go- 
ing away and I don’t know what is to become 
of me.” 

Silvy was highly indignant. Leave her 
child alone! She’d like to know what no ac- 
count folks they were, to do a thing like that. 
‘‘ Never you mind, Susan, you come right 
straight home. I’ll take care of you. I can 
make a pallet on the floor in your room. N oth- 
in’ shan’t hurt you. I’d like to know what Mr. 
Frank and Miss Kitty would say! ” 

Silvy’s vehemence had the effect of recalling 
Susan to reason. 

“ Of course they aren’t going to turn me out 
or let me stay alone, Silvy. They will make 
some arrangement, but I’d rather be here.” 

It was much easier to get a wrong idea into 
Silvy’s head, than to get it out. She clung to 
the impression that her child was being abused, 
and pouted out her lips and shook her head, 
muttering all sorts of threats, as she rolled out 
the cakes. 


UPS AND DOWNS 


157 


A quarter of an hour or so later, there was 
a knock at the door. Silvy had gone to her 
room for a minute, and Susan, who was open- 
ing the oven door, called, “ Come in,” without 
looking, as she took out one pan and slipped 
another in. 

“ I beg your pardon,” said a familiar voice, 
and she turned, pan in hand, to face Dick 
Seymour. 

Susan was silent from surprise and the con- 
sciousness of her big apron and red eyes. Dick 
begged her pardon again, explaining that he 
was looking for Sam and had no idea there 
was any one in the house but Silvy, or he would 
not have come to the back door. “ What a 
nice kitchen,” he added. ‘‘ I didn’t know you 
could cook.” 

Susan found her voice. “ Come in and have 
a hot cookie,” she said. “ Silvy made them, I 
only cut them out. She’ll be here in a min- 
ute, but I think Sam is at Miss Arthur’s to- 
day.” 

Those fragrant cookies were not to be re- 
sisted, particularly on a cold afternoon. Dick 
accepted the invitation and partook of them, 
watching Susan as she turned the contents of 


158 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


another pan out on a sieve. “ Your apron 
is very becoming,” he remarked. 

Susan laughed, privately hoping he did not 
notice her eyes. It was a vain hope, however, 
for after a moment or so of silent enjoyment 
of his cookies, Dick said, “ You won’t mind 
my asking, will you, if there is anything 
wrong? ” 

Susan shook her head, feeling a silly desire 
to cry some more. “ Nothing really,” she re- 
plied. 

Dick consumed another cookie. “You’d 
better own up. It will do you good. I’ll keep 
it dark.” 

Susan had no mind to confess anything more 
than a little homesickness, but before she knew 
it Dick had the whole story. 

“ Why, Susan, you know they would not go 
away and leave you,” he said. 

“ Of course I know Mrs. Lawrence will 
arrange it, but ” 

“ They ought to tell you their plans. I do 
think that. It isn’t fair at all, not to. Don’t 
you mind, Susan. It is bound to come out all 
right.” 

“ But, Dick, please don’t tell, ever. I am 


UPS AND DOWNS 


159 


afraid I am rather silly to care. I think I am 
a little homesick, anyway.” 

“ Of course I shan’t tell. It is very natural 
to be homesick. I know all about that. What 
I can’t see is why they are making a secret of 
it.” 

‘‘ I ought to have remembered the birthday 
cake,” Susan said, feeling more and more 
ashamed. 

Dick asked what she meant, and she ex- 
plained that once Holliday and Sophy Idelle 
had a secret from her and hurt her feelings, and 
it turned out, a week or so later, to be her birth- 
day cake. “ This seems different,” she added 
with a sigh as she took off her apron, “ but per- 
haps I don’t understand.” 

“ Susan, where have you been? Not at the 
hospital all this time? ” Holliday cried, seizing 
upon her the minute she was inside the front 
door. “ Aunt Nan says I may tell you the 
secret, and I can’t wait! Oh, Susan!'" 

“ Well, what is it? ” Susan asked, conscious 
that she didn’t sound exactly interested. 

“ We are going to New Orleans, to New 
Orleans! To Mardi Gras! Think of it, 
Susan! What fun we’ll have! Why, you 


160 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


don’t look glad a bit. Why, Susan! aren’t 
you? ” Holliday stood still and gazed at her in 
astonished disappointment. 

“ Why, yes, I am glad you are going if you 
want to. Of course I’m glad for you, and I 
hope you will have a lovely time.” 

Light began to dawn upon Holliday. 
“ Why, child! did you think I was going alone? 
Did you think that? The idea! Why, we are 
all going, — Papa and Aunt Nan, and you 
and I.” 

“ Oh, but I couldn’t, Holliday, truly. It 
would cost too much for one thing.” Susan 
felt quite confident the state of the home 
treasury did not warrant any such demands on 
it, but she was glad Holliday wanted her ; very 
glad. 

“ My dear goose, you are going. It is all 
settled. You can’t help yourself. Papa will 
get you a pass, and we are to stay at Aunt 
Clara’s. She says she will be delighted to have 
you. Your mother knows about it, Susan. 
Aunt Nan asked her before she left.” 

“ Mother knew? ” Susan repeated, joy 
breaking over her face. “ Then that was why 
she wanted to have my pink challis finished! ” 


UPS AND DOWNS 


161 


“ I suppose so. And when do you think we 
are going? Next Wednesday.” 

A changed Susan burst in upon Silvy next 
morning, which was Saturday. “ Oh, Silvy, 
they are going to take me,” she cried. “ So 
I’ll want you to press my white muslin, and 
have my clothes ready Tuesday morning, so 
we can pack. Can you? ” 

Silvy tossed her head and reckoned she could. 
She was mighty glad those folkses had come to 
their senses. Coin’ on a pleasure trip and 
leavin’ her child behind! It was quite useless 
for Susan to explain that they had meant all 
along to take her. Silvy continued to believe 
they had been in some way brought to their 
senses. 

Holliday and Susan were objects of greai 
envy among their friends. When Dick heard 
the news his eyes twinkled a little as they 
met Susan’s, but he didn’t say a word about 
yesterday afternoon. He agreed it would 
be great fun. He wished he were going, 
too. 

“ It is good of you not to tell,” Susan said to 
him when she had a chance. “ I was a goose.” 

“ I suppose everybody is at times,” Dick 


162 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


replied. “ It would have been a poor return 
for the cookies, if I had.” 

They, it seemed, were not the only people 
going to Mardi Gras. Mr. Lemoyne said he 
rather expected to run down for a few days on 
business. 


CHAPTER XVI 


ENDING IN FAIRYLAND 

An important part of the pleasure of going 
South is leaving cold weather behind you; so 
the snow storm that came on Monday and was 
followed by the coldest spell of the season, 
added much to the already overflowing delight 
of the occasion. 

Susan found it hard to attend to lessons with 
that alluring white world outside, and Holli- 
day at her elbow, bursting out every second or 
two with something about the people and 
things they were soon to see. She had heard 
before this of Aunt Clara and Cousin Jack, 
and Corinne, but now these names took on a 
reality they had lacked hitherto. Aunt Clara 
was Mrs. Macfarland, Mr. Heywood’s older 
sister. Jack and Corinne and Arthur were her 
children. Susan was assured she would love 
Cousin Jack; that Cousin Arthur was nice, but 
not like his brother. Corinne was a debutante 
this year. 


163 


164 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


“ Please don’t tell me any more now,” Susan 
begged, “ because really you know we ought 
to study. It isn’t fair not to, when we are to 
have such a long vacation.” 

“ You are right, my dear digger, I won’t say 
another word,” Holliday answered, returning 
to her history. 

But not for long. ‘‘ Susan, just look out 
at the snow and think, Friday we’ll be where 
violets are blooming.” 

‘‘ Where violets bloom, sounds like poetry.” 

“ I said ‘ are blooming,’ they bloom here. 

Here it is snowing. 

There roses are blowing, 

if you want poetry,” Holliday went on. 

** And soon we are going,'* 

Susan added; and then of course they stopped 
to laugh. 

All their studying was interspersed with 
passages like these, and yet on the whole they 
did pretty well. Miss Grant said. She sug- 
gested that they might take some books with 
them. Why waste a long day on the train? 

After hearing about roses and violets, Susan 


ENDING IN FAIRYLAND 


165 


was surprised when Mrs. Lawrence said she 
must take warm clothes as well as thin. “ You 
never know what sort of weather to expect in 
New Orleans. You may need your furs.” 

Gertie did the packing, and neither Mrs. 
Lawrence nor Holliday seemed to feel any 
concern over it. At Susan’s home, going away 
was more of an event. A steamer trunk into 
which went, among other things, a white dress 
apiece for the girls, was, for some reason not 
clear to Susan, sent ahead. 

They had class as usual on Wednesday, 
and Mrs. Lawrence actually gave a luncheon. 
Susan, who was in a fever of excitement be- 
neath a calm exterior, began to wonder if they 
would really get off. She hung over her tray, 
folding and refolding her ribbons, and opened 
her bag a dozen times to see that nothing was 
forgotten. Holliday left everything to Gertie, 
with perfect confidence. ‘‘ I think you love to 
pat your things,” she said, laughing, as Susan 
changed the position of her handkerchief case 
and closed the lid of the tray once more. 

“ Do you suppose they will come for the 
trunks in time? ” Susan couldn’t help asking. 

“ Why, of course. They always do. Aunt 


166 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


Nan has just come up and is going to lie down 
for an hour. There is plenty of time.” 

In spite of fears to the contrary, the baggage 
man did come, and at last they were starting. 
Susan was reminded of the Christmas Eve 
when Holliday and she had gone to the station 
to see Miss Julia Anderson off. She felt quite 
grown up herself to-day with Dick’s box of 
candy. 

All Our crowd,” as Holliday called them, 
were at the station, and much merriment pre- 
vailed. 

** Good-by, Susan, while you are away 
Write me a letter, love. 

Send me your photograph,’' 

sang Charlie. 

“ Give my love to old New Orleans.” “ Too 
bad you are going to miss the skating.” “ Do 
go in and pat Wynk for me, Bessie.” “ Good- 
by, good-by.” And then the conductor called 
All aboard — ,” and the long train began to 
roll smoothly out into the night. They were 
really on the way to New Orleans. 

The journey, which to Mrs. Lawrence was 
something to be endured, was to her young 
companions a frolic from beginning to end. 


ENDING IN FAIR’YEAND 


167 


Going to bed, getting up, eating breakfast in 
the dining car, these commonplace matters 
were lifted quite above the ordinary, for the 
reason that this was their first journey to- 
gether. Holliday’s tongue was scarcely still a 
minute and the books, stowed with such good 
intentions in their bags, lay untouched. 

To Susan this was an adventure into the un- 
known, to Holliday it was a homecoming. 
Friends, relatives, and familiar scenes awaited 
her. Susan, as the day passed, began to real- 
ize that she was going into the midst of 
strangers and to feel her shyness growing. 
When the porter said they were an hour late, 
she was, if anything, relieved, while Holliday 
was all impatience. 

“ We shall be too late for the Momus parade. 
It is too bad ! ” she cried. 

“ I should think you might be able to do with 
Rex and Comus,” Mrs. Lawrence answered. 

“ But I want Susan to see everything,” said 
Holliday. 

They had left the snow behind in the night 
and the sharp air had grown steadily milder. 
The country they were now passing through 
was low and marshy, the dreary, brown 


168 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


stretches relieved here and there by patches of 
vivid green. As they left Bay St. Louis, and 
crossed the long bridge, which is built so low 
the train seems running through the water, 
the sun was setting round and red. Susan 
watched it, her face pressed against the pane, 
while Holliday moved restlessly about. 

Even the last hour of a journey comes to an 
end sometime. Susan began to see twinkling 
street lights, and was conscious of the thrill of 
mystery as they steamed into the great, un- 
known city, under cover of the night. The 
baggage man appeared, and the porter with 
his whisk broom, and before the train stopped, 
in the midst of the whisking process, a tall 
young man, who reminded Susan of Joe, came 
down the aisle and was rapturously greeted by 
Holliday as Cousin Jack. 

“ And this is my dearest friend,” she an- 
nounced, turning him about to face Susan after 
he had spoken to Mrs. Lawrence. 

Cousin Jack laughed and said he was de- 
lighted to meet our dearest friend, giving 
Susan a cordial grip of the hand. Then he 
hurried them off the train, through the crowded 
station, to a carriage. 


ENDING IN FAIRYLAND 


169 


While the others talked of people and things 
she knew nothing about, Susan strained her 
eyes to see something of the streets they were 
passing through. The air that came in through 
the open window was cool and moist — like 
spring, she thought. 

When after a rather long drive the carriage 
stopped, she had an impression of tall hedges 
and giant palms, and everywhere a faint, deli- 
cious fragrance which Holliday said was sweet 
olive. 

“How long will it take them to dress?” 
Cousin Jack was heard asking Mrs. Lawrence. 

“ Are we going to the ball? Cousin Jack, 
you darling ! Susan, what fun ! It will take us 
about five minutes. That was why Aunt Nan 
had the trimk sent ahead. Oh, good! I hoped 
so. This will make up for missing the pro- 
cession.” Holliday was quite beside herself 
with delight. Except that she had grown a 
foot taller, she had not changed much in two 
years. Jack said. 

A large, fine-looking lady with white hair, 
and in evening dress, stood at the door to wel- 
come them. She kissed Susan as if she had 
known her always, and said she was very glad 


170 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


to have her, and Susan knew without being told 
that she was Aunt Clara. 

‘‘ Now make haste,” said Cousin Jack. 
“We want to be there when the curtain goes 
up. I’U allow you half an hour.” 

Hand in hand Susan and Holliday followed 
a maid through the wide hall, up the shallow 
stairs, to a room on the second floor, where on 
the bed their white dresses and ribbons were 
laid out in readiness. 

As they dressed Susan learned that it was 
the Momus ball they were going to. Her ideas 
on the subject were vague, but it was some- 
thing delightful, of course. Holliday’s joy 
was contagious, and she tied her blue bows in 
a flutter of excitement. 

“ You are a dear little Puritan,” Aunt 
Clara said, coming in to see if they needed any 
more help, and kissing Susan’s cheek just as 
she did Holliday’s. “ You will see Corinne at 
the ball,” she added. “ She is one of the 
maids.” 

Susan was not quite certain that she liked 
to be called a little Puritan, but certainly Aunt 
Clara was kind and cordial. 

“ Nansie and I will be along after a while,” 


ENDING IN FAIRYLAND 171 

she told them. ‘‘ Take good care of them, 
Jack.” 

And again they were rolling through the 
lighted streets, with that soft air in their faces. 
Was it possible that only last night they had 
said good-by to the girls and boys at home? 

‘‘ We’ll make it,” Cousin Jack said, glanc- 
ing at his watch as the carriage stopped be- 
fore the French Opera House; and they did, 
though it remained a mystery how he managed 
to get them through the crowd so quickly. 

“ Aunt Clara has a box in the premier,” 
Holliday explained on the way. “ It is a good 
place to see everything, — ^just above the par- 
quet, you know.” 

Susan didn’t know, and the open box into 
which they were conducted was unlike any- 
thing she had ever seen, and so was the bril- 
liant theater with its lights and its throngs of 
people in evening dress, below them, around 
them, above them. Here was the alluring, 
splendid world of society, and she and Holli- 
day were in the midst of it ! 

They had barely taken their seats and be- 
"gun to breathe quietly once more, when the 
lights went down and the curtain rose on the 


172 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


panorama of ‘‘ Aladdin and His Wonderful 
Lamp,” which carried them into the land of 
dreams. Scenes of truly Oriental splendor 
and mystery followed one another. Holliday, 
with her hand on Susan’s chair, kept up a flow 
of explanation, between tableaux. 

“ There are the Queen and her maids in the 
right-hand box. Isn’t she lovely? See that 
girl just behind her, with dark hair? That is 
Corinne. Down there in the parquet are the 
‘ Call outs.’ Do you see them? ” 

Susan, looking down obediently, saw only a 
number of pretty girls. 

“ They have been invited to take part in the 
maskers’ dances, you know,” Holliday went on. 

“Do they unmask afterwards?” Susan 
wanted to know. 

“ On the stage? No, indeed! They go to 
their dressing-rooms and put on their evening 
clothes, and then are admitted at the front door 
like any one else,” Jack explained. “ They 
never tell.” 

“ Aren’t they sometimes found out? ” Susan 
asked, smiling up at him as he stood behind 
her. “ You remind me of my brother,” she 
added. 


ENDING IN FAIRYLAND ITS 

‘‘ Thank you,” he said. “ Yes, sometimes 
they are foimd out, but not as often as you 
might think. In fact, very seldom.” 

The tableaux were over when Mrs. 
Lawrence and Mrs. Macfarland came in, 
Mrs. Lawrence wished to know how Susan 
was enjoying it. Jack was highly amused 
when she answered that she liked it even more 
than “ The Merchant of Venice.” “ What do« 
you suppose Henry Irving would say to 
that? ” he asked. 

“ That is the only thing I ever saw in the 
theater,” Susan explained shily. Of course 
this isn’t the same.” 

“ Now, don’t tease her. Jack,” said Aunt 
Clara. 

By this time there began to be a great deal 
of visiting from box to box. Many old friends 
came in to greet Mrs. Lawrence and Holliday. 
Susan was left undisturbed for the most part, 
to enjoy the dances that followed the corona- 
tion of the Queen. 

Then Aunt Nan said they had had quite 
enough excitement for one evening, and under 
the escort again of Cousin Jack they left the 
glittering scene. 


174 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


A very pink-cheeked, bright-eyed girl smiled 
back at Susan as she untied her blue ribbons 
before the mirror. 

“ Susan, don’t you love it? ” demanded 
Holliday. 

Susan had never imagined anything so 
wonderful and beautiful. 

“ And there are Rex and Comus yet to see,” 
Holliday said, shaking her shining hair around 
her shoulders. “ And Aunt Theo and the 
lions,” she added, laughing. 

Aunt Theo lived in French town. She was 
Holliday’s great aunt on her mother’s side, and 
was related by marriage on her father’s. 

“ I should think you would hate not to live 
here,” Susan remarked feelingly, “ but I am 
glad you don’t.” 

“ Oh, well, it isn’t always Carnival,” Holli- 
day answered. 


CHAPTER XVII 


AUNT THEO AND THE LIONS 

Madame Theo lived on Royal Street in a 
queer old house which was entered by way of a 
massive gate and a paved alley that led into 
a courtyard, beautiful with growing plants of 
countless variety. In pots and tubs and tall 
water jars they overflowed the galleries and 
surrounded the stone fountain. Susan, who 
felt a little alarmed at the prospect of Madame 
Theo, wished she might be allowed to stay 
here beside the fountain; but she did not men- 
tion it, and followed meekly in the wake of 
Holliday and Mrs. Lawrence, up the grand 
staircase to the living rooms on the second 
floor. 

Susan had gone to bed under the spell of 
fairyland, and daylight had not altogether dis- 
pelled it. After breakfast with Aunt Clara, 
who was the only member of the family 
visible, she and Holliday wandered around 
the garden in the summery sunshine. The 
175 


176 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


Macfarlands lived on St. Charles Avenue, in 
a house not unlike the houses she was familiar 
with at home, but the garden with its giant 
palms and magnolias, its roses in bud, its 
violets in bloom, was different. It was strange 
to think that at this moment the Colonel’s 
garden was covered with snow, and its 
magnolias, little sisters to these great trees, 
were sighing unhappily in the cold wind. 

On the way to Madame’s the differentTi^^^, 
as Susan expressed it, increased. The wide 
gutters, the gate bells, the queer cisterns all 
above ground, the strange names borne by 
familiar things, all amused her. The porches 
and piazzas in New Orleans were galleries, 
the sidewalks were banquets, the wardrobes, 
armoires. 

At the head of the stairs, a tall, dark young 
woman, who introduced herself as Miss Avery, 
Madame’s companion, met them and took 
them into the drawing-room, where the old 
lady awaited them. 

She sat in a great armchair with cushions 
about her, a little shrunken person, yet very 
impressive. An elaborate headdress of lace 
fell over her shoulders, and although her great 


AUNT THEO AND THE LIONS 177 


dark eyes were dim and her skin like old 
ivory, her features were straight and fine, and 
it was easy to believe she had in her youth been 
beautiful. 

Susan had every opportunity to observe her, 
for she was left in the background for the time. 
Madame had no thought for any one but 
Holliday, her Evelyn’s child. She made her 
kneel on a footstool before her, and with her 
hands on the young girl’s shoulders gazed 
intently into her face. 

“ Just eighteen years ago your mother was 
queen of the Carnival, and to me it seems day 
before yesterday; but to you it is a long, long 
time, I suppose.” 

“ Before I was born always seems long ago,” 
Holliday replied. “ Do I look like Mamma, 
Aunt Theo? ” 

The old lady shook her head. “ Perhaps a 
little. Evelyn was more petite. You are tall 
like the Heywoods.” 

“ But her eyes and hair are Evelyn’s, Aunt 
Theo,” Mrs. Lawrence said. 

“ She is a very handsome girl, as girls go 
nowadays,” Aunt Theo owned, patting Holli- 
day’s cheek with a tiny, withered hand. 


178 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


Susan from her corner on the high-backed 
sofa felt indignant. She was certain no one 
could ever have been more beautiful than 
Holliday. Madame Theo was losing her eye- 
sight, this explained it. Susan did not know 
about the glamor that lies over the past for 
those who are old. 

A little behind Madame, Miss Avery sat, 
doing embroidery work. She had been the 
subject of some discussion at the lunch table. 
Mrs. Macfarland said Aunt Theo was quite 
infatuated, and she could not understand it, 
for Miss Avery was not good-looking and 
seemed to her to have extremely brusque 
manners. She had come highly recommended, 
she went on, in reply to a question from Mrs. 
Lawrence, having been some years in an 
Eastern sanitarium, and more recently com- 
panion to some elderly person who had died. 
Susan thought she looked cross. Avery was 
not an uncommon name, but it seemed con- 
nected in her mind with something that had 
happened lately, she could not think what. 

And now Holliday rose from her footstool 
and beckoned to her. “ Aunt Theo, I have 
brought my dearest friend to see you,” she 


AUNT THEO AND THE LIONS 179 


said, and Susan had to take her place on the 
ottoman and submit to that intent gaze, 
beneath which she grew very pink. 

“ She is a cool-blooded little Northerner, I 
see,” the old lady remarked with a mischievous 
smile. “ Susan is a good name. It suits you. 
It means a lily.” 

‘‘ She is a kind of lily-of-the- valley, Aunf 
Theo,” put in Holliday; “ but she is only half 
Northern.” 

“ You once met some of the Norrises of 
Philadelphia, Aunt Theo,” Mrs. Lawrence 
said. ‘‘ Susan’s grandfather was a son of 
Judge Abel Norris.” 

“ Is that so? Yes, I knew Abel Norris. A 
wretched Yankee he was, but amusing. It is 
good stock. Does Holliday impose upon you, 
my dear? ” 

“ Oh, no,” Susan replied earnestly, ‘‘ that 
is, not often. She doesn’t mean to.” At 
which the old lady laughed heartily. 

“We must leave you now. Aunt Theo,” 
Mrs. Lawrence said, rising. “ Holliday 
wishes to show her friend some of the lions, as 
she calls them. We are going over to Jackson 
Square, and the cathedral.” 


180 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


Aunt Theo, however, wished to talk with 
Nannette, and would have her way. “ Bea- 
trice can take the girls,” she said, ‘‘ and you can 
stay with me. You don’t want to see Jackson 
Square. It will do you good, Beatrice, to get 
some air.” 

The arrangement did not suit any one 
particularly except Madame. Miss Avery, 
Susan thought, looked positively sulky. 

“ She isn’t very polite,” Holliday whis- 
pered. “ Still, we need not mind her. Aunt 
Theo makes you do what she wishes, whether 
or no.” 

“ I suppose that is where you get it,” Susan 
said, laughing. 

However, when she rejoined them with her 
hat on. Miss Avery appeared to have thought 
better of it and decided to look pleasant. She 
had an errand for Madame that took them first 
to Orleans Alley, a picturesque court, with the 
cathedral and bishop’s garden on one side and 
quaint, many-galleried houses on the other. 

The names of the streets as they walked 
along amused and interested Susan. It was 
like French History, she thought, — St. Anne, 
St. Philip, Chartres, Iberville. 


AUNT THEO AND THE LIONS 181 


“ But here’s some American history for 
you,” Holliday remarked, when they stood be- 
fore General Jackson’s statue, above which 
floated the stars and stripes. ‘‘ Aunt Theo 
was a little girl at the time of the battle of 
New Orleans, but she remembers it, and things 
she heard her father tell about it.” 

“ You should ask Madame to tell your 
friend about the visit of Lafayette in 1825, 
when she was a young lady,” suggested Miss 
Avery. She added that Jackson Square once 
had a French name, ‘‘ Place d’Armes.” 

After Jackson Square and the cathedral, 
they visited some bird stores, and Holliday 
and Susan were delighted to find among the 
many brilliant, theatrical-looking fowls a 
gray African parrot with scarlet tail feathers, 
almost the counterpart of old Look-in-a-book, 
of honored memory. 

When they passed the Haunted House, 
haunted for more than half a century by its 
grewsome story of tortured and murdered 
slaves, Holliday said, “We live in a haunted 
house, don’t we, Susan? ” 

Miss Avery inquired where they lived, and 
for some reason seemed surprised at the reply. 


182 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


It might have been at the cheerful name of 
Christmas Tree House. Holliday went on to 
explain this as they walked hack to Aunt 
Theo’s, but Miss Avery made no comment 
upon it and asked no more questions, appear- 
ing, indeed, rather absent-minded. 

“ How has the little Puritan enjoyed her- 
self to-day? ” Cousin Jack wished to know, 
taking a seat beside Susan in the drawing- 
room before dinner. 

“ I never had such a lovely time,” she told 
him, adding demurely that she seemed to have 
a great many nicknames. 

Jack asked what the others were, and pro- 
fessed himself charmed with Susan Hermione. 
Its origin was so interesting, he said; but 
“ Your Shyness ” was best of all. 

Corinne, whom Susan had not seen before, 
came in from an afternoon tea, just here. She 
was a pretty girl, full of life and gayety, and 
quite as cordial to Holliday’s friend as the 
rest of the family. She had a great deal to 
tell about last night’s ball, and brought out 
her favors and invitations for the admiration 
of the family. Holliday and Susan hung 
about her with the most flattering interest. 


AUNT THEO AND THE LIONS 183 


“Susan, you do like it?” Holliday asked, 
for at least the tenth time, as they were getting 
ready for bed. 

“ Why, it is all beautiful and like fairy- 
land,” Susan replied, laughing. “ And your 
relations are the kindest people I ever met, 
though I was afraid of Aunt Theo.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


KEX AND COMXJS 

“ Here in New Orleans grown people play 
like children,” Susan wrote to her mother. 
“ It is the loveliest fun, partly I suppose be- 
cause they have so much money and can have 
such wonderful playthings. I used to think 
it was all Mardi Gras, but that is only the end 
of the Carnival which begins in January. 

“ Perhaps you will think it sounds foolish, 
but really. Mother, you can’t help feeling that 
Rex is a real king, coming from some far- 
away country. Mr. Jack took us down to see 
him land. He came up the river in his royal 
yacht, with his court, and it was very exciting, 
with bands playing and cannons firing. After 
that we went to the City Hall and saw the 
Mayor deliver the keys of the city. 

“ Everywhere, but particularly on Canal 
Street, you see miles and miles of decorations, 
in Rex’s colors, green, purple and yellow bunt- 
ing, with flags and banners. 

184 


REX AND COMUS 


185 


“ We spent nearly all day going to meet 
him, and then to see the keys delivered, and we 
had lunch down town in a queer French place. 
Such fun! We were so tired when we got 
home, Mrs. Macfarland said we were to see 
the Rex parade next day with her and not go 
tearing around the streets with Jack. I 
couldn’t help feeling a little sorry, for he is so 
full of fun. Arthur, Mrs. Macfarland’s other 
son, is nice too, but he is engaged to be mar- 
ried, and hasn’t any time to waste on us. 
Holliday said I need not mind, for we were to 
see the Comus parade with Jack, at night, and 
that it was just as well to do the proper thing 
in the morning. 

I never saw anything like the streets when 
we started out Tuesday morning. Children in 
cambric costumes with bells, and wearing 
funny masks, birds and beasts of all sorts, 
strolling musicians, and the funniest red imps 
with long tails which they carried carefully 
over their arms. It made a fascinating 
picture. We went with Mrs. Macfarland and 
Mrs. Lawrence to the gallery of the Pickwick 
Club. I forgot to say the weather was perfect. 
On Saturday it rained and turned rather cold. 


186 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


but was warm again in time for Mardi 
Gras. 

It was a privilege to have seats in that 
gallery, for it was where the Queen sat, and 
we not only had a good view of her but were 
introduced to her afterwards. 

I think I was a little disappointed because 
she didn’t wear her royal robes and a crown. 
People here seem so fond of dressing up, I 
supposed she would. She had on a big hat 
covered with light blue plumes, and a feathery 
blue thing around her neck, and looked very 
pretty, only not especially like a queen. 

‘‘ I have a lot of pictures of the parade for 
you, so I will not take time to describe it. 
The subject of it was ‘ The Language of 
Color.’ It was an exciting moment when Rex 
appeared. He hadn’t any mask and looked 
really like a splendid king. His chariot 
stopped before our gallery, and he greeted the 
Queen and sent up a great bouquet of violets, 
daffodils and ferns. 

“ After it was over I was introduced to a 
great many persons. There are so many who 
used to know Holliday’s mother and are inter- 
ested in her. Everybody is very kind. They 


REX AND COMUS 


18 T 


treat me as if I were an old friend, too. I 
was never so much kissed in my life. I am 
trying, as Miss Grant says, to play my part 
and not just look on. 

“ We stayed at home in the afternoon and 
Corinne showed us her dress for the Comus 
ball; then at night we went with Jack to see 
Comus from the street. The illuminations 
made the city even more beautiful than by 
day, and the flaming torches and colored 
lights added a great deal to the effect of the 
parade. The floats represented ‘ Legends of 
Japan ’ or something of that sort, and you can 
imagine how queer and picturesque they were. 

“ Holliday had an adventure. We were 
standing near the curbstone watching the 
parade, when one of the floats came to a halt 
before us. One of the maskers who, we de- 
cided, must be a prince or something royal be- 
cause of his gorgeous robes and many jewels, 
waved his hand to us. Attached to a chain 
around his neck was a small fan, which he used 
constantly, and just as they were moving on 
again he pointed to Holliday, and taking off 
the chain threw it to her. Jack caught it and 
gave it to her, and quick as thought Holliday 


188 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


unpinned her carnival badge and tossed it to 
him. In his effort to catch it he came near 
falling off the float. He got it, however, and 
the last we saw of him he was pinning it over 
his heart. The fan and chain are beautiful. 
Corinne says they are handsomer than any of 
her favors. Of course, Holliday is very much 
pleased. She says she will probably never 
know who the prince is. 

‘‘ Our adventure did not end here, for when 
we had made a short cut and overtaken the 
parade in another street, we recognized the 
same float. While we were looking there was 
a sudden blaze which for a minute we thought 
was part of the program. Then we realized 
that the float was on Are. It had caught from 
one of the red light torches. It was terribly 
exciting! The maskers had to jump for their 
lives, but the fire was put out very quickly 
and they were taken away in a carriage, 
and the smoldering remains hauled out of 
sight. 

“ It is just a week to-day since we left home, 
but I have seen so many new and strange 
things it seems much longer. 

“ I hope both Grandma and Aunt Emily 


REX AND COMUS 


189 


are better. Give them ever so much love. 
With heaps for yourself, 

“ Your devoted daughter, 

“ Susan Norris Maxwell.” 

The adventure on Mardi Gras night had, as 
it turned out, a sequel. To be made the 
recipient of such a favor was an honor to 
which no girl could be indifferent. Holliday 
was frankly delighted, and regarded her fan 
and chain as among her greatest treasures, and 
spent many moments wondering over the 
identity of the prince, as she and Susan called 
him. 

The Macfarlands’ was a favorite gather- 
ing place for young people. The friends of 
Corinne and Jack made a merry party in the 
drawing-room almost every evening. Her 
Shyness was more than willing on these occa- 
sions to stay in the background and watch the 
fun till it was time to go upstairs; but Holli- 
day, in the midst of it, resented being sent to 
bed like a baby. 

Mrs. Lawrence was firm, however. She was 
not going to take two tired-out girls back to 
Miss Grant. 


190 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


Among the callers one evening was a young 
Englishman, Brian Fortesque, who had been 
pointed out to Susan on several occasions and 
about whom she had heard a good deal of talk. 
His mother had been a schoolmate of Aunt 
Clara’s, but had married an Englishman and 
lived abroad for many years. She was now 
a widow and had returned to her old home to 
spend a year with her mother, who was in 
feeble health. During this time her son had 
been in New Orleans constantly, and by his 
pleasant manners and frank interest in the pe- 
culiar customs of this part of the world had 
made himself a social favorite. The well- 
known fact that he might at some time succeed 
to the title and estates of his uncle, the Earl of 
Darrow, no doubt whetted the interest Society 
took in him. 

It happened that Mr. Heywood had arrived 
that evening to spend a few days with his 
sister and take his family home, and Holli- 
day to surprise him had put on one of her 
cousin’s frocks and arranged her hair high on 
her head. The little girl was transformed at 
one stroke into the woman, and it was impos- 
sible not to exclaim over her beauty. Her 


REX AND COMUS 


191 


own enjoyment of thus dressing up made her 
all the lovelier. 

Mrs. Lawrence shook her head, and after 
the first shouts of surprise and admiration 
were over, would have sent her to put on her 
usual dress ; but Mr. Heywood, looking fondly 
at his charming daughter, said, “ Let her 
alone for to-night. Nan. To-morrow she will 
be my little girl again.” 

Holliday enjoyed to the full the evening 
and her little triumph. Susan, sitting beside 
Mrs. Macfarland across the room, watched 
her exhibiting her fan and chain to Brian 
Fortesque, as they stood together by the 
piano, with a wistful feeling of being suddenly 
left behind by her friend. 

Mr. Fortesque’s right hand was bandaged. 
Susan had heard him explaining lightly that 
he had met with an accident, and it was this, 
together with a merry little scene which fol- 
lowed Jack’s mischievous reminder to Holli- 
day that half-past nine, the inexorable hour, 
had struck, that revealed a secret to her observ- 
ing eyes. Brian begging for a flower and 
Holliday gayly presenting one of the roses she 
wore at her belt, — that was all, but the gesture 


192 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


he made as he fastened it on his coat was that 
of the prince in the Comus parade, Susan was 
sure. Besides, there was a rumor abroad, she 
knew, that one of the maskers was burned. 
She confided her guess to Holliday as they 
went upstairs after the good-nights. 

“Why, Susan,” cried Holliday, “I can’t 
believe it,” but she fell into a profound reverie 
as she sat before the glass taking down her 
hair. 

“ Arthur said one of the maskers was 
burned, I know,” she remarked. “ It is very 
clever of you to guess it, Susan; perhaps you 
are right,” 

“ I hope you won’t go and fall in love with 
him,” Susan said discontentedly. 

“Why, Susan Maxwell, I hope I am not 
so silly ! By the way, I wonder if Mr. 
Lemoyne ever came? ” 

“ What made you think of him? ” asked 
Susan. 

“ Why, falling in love suggested Clarice, I 
suppose.” 

“ Well, I am sure I don’t care whether he 
came or not,” said Susan. 


CHAPTER XIX 


“ YOURS, B. a/’ 

Susan had not the least idea of being an 
eavesdropper when she slipped out on the 
gallery at Madame Theo’s that morning. 

They had been invited to lunch, but when 
they arrived, Madame, who had had a bad 
night, was not yet dressed. Mrs. Lawrence 
said that if Susan did not mind waiting alone 
in the drawing-room for a few minutes she 
and Holliday would make a call in the neigh- 
borhood, upon an old friend. 

Susan did not mind. She would write to 
Bessie. She had a pencil in her bag and a new 
pad she had bought that morning. After they 
were gone, however, she found herself rather 
oppressed by the stillness and dimness. The 
high French windows were open upon the 
gallery, most inviting with its flowers and sun- 
light and its view of the quaint old fountain; 
so she stole out and established herself in a low 
chair near the railing. 

As she sat there, she thought of what the 
193 


194 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


Poet had once said about atmosphere. She 
was beginning to understand it. In a place 
like this, when all was still, something seemed 
to speak. Stories, real stories, floated around 
you. You felt that if you were only quiet 
enough, and waited, you must at length hear 
and understand. 

After dreaming over this for a while, she 
remembered her letter and picked up her 
pencil. She began with their visit to St. 
Roch’s Chapel the day before. She liked to 
write letters, and was soon so absorbed in her 
description of the shrine as to be uncon- 
scious of her surroundings. 

Some minutes had passed when she became 
dimly aware of a low-toned conversation 
carried on somewhere near. She went on with 
her letter, paying no attention. 

“ Then I’d better vamose at once. It is a 
queer coincidence, but I much prefer not being 
seen. It might complicate matters.” It was 
a man’s voice and somehow familiar, but 
Susan did not stop to think of it. 

“ Once when St. Roch lay in the forest ill 
with the plague, a good dog came to him and 
fed him,” she wrote. 


“YOURS, B. A.” 


195 


“ I have taken care not to mention my last 
case by name, for fear it might lead — ^you 
understand? But I did not dream — ” It was 
a woman’s voice this time, and it fell into so 
low a tone the rest of her sentence was lost. 

“ So over the altar they have put a statue of 
the saint with the dog by his side,” Susan 
continued. 

‘‘ Don’t be impatient.” It was the man’s 
voice. “ If I remember, you said yourself it 
would be worth while if it took a year, and it 
is far from that yet. Unless you are mistaken 
in your facts, ‘ Southern Homes ’ will net us 
a neat sum yet.” 

“ My facts are all right. She was as sane as 
I am.” 

“It would be worth while!” “Southern 
homes ! ” Susan was wide awake now. It was 
Mr. Lemoyne’s voice, she knew, and Miss 
Avery’s. She could not see them for the vines, 
but they must be immediately below her in the 
court. 

“ I hold the key to the situation, then, 
literally. Ta, ta! and thanks for the 
chink.” Mr. Lemoyne’s disagreeable laugh 
ascended. 


196 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


“ Good-by, and success to ‘ Southern 
Homes,’ ” responded Miss Avery. 

Susan caught sight of Mr. Lemoyne’s back 
as he crossed the courtyard and disappeared, 
lighting a cigarette as he went. Now here was 
something very queer. That he should know 
Miss Avery! What did it mean? A guilty 
feeling of having heard something not meant 
for her ears took Susan back to the drawing- 
room, where Miss Avery had left her. Her 
mind was a jumble of St. Roch and this very 
queer conversation. 

Holliday’s voice on the stairs interrupted 
her effort to put her thoughts in order, and 
almost immediately, assisted by Miss Avery, 
Madame Theo entered. 

The old lady appeared to have quite re- 
covered from her indisposition, and laid her- 
self out to be entertaining to her young guests, 
relating stories of old times in New Orleans, 
and talking of her own youth and that of Holli- 
day’s mother. She was proud of her Creole 
blood and had never been reconciled to her 
husband’s very Scotch name, Carmichael. She 
liked to be called Madame Theo. 

She gave Holliday a miniature of her 


YOURS, B. A.” 


197 


mother as a child of six, set in pearls, very 
valuable and beautiful. ‘‘ It is time you began 
to be called by her name,’^ she said. 

Susan knew Holliday had her mother’s 
name, but it seemed quite impossible ever to 
call her anything but Holliday. Though 
Evelyn was a beautiful name, it did not suit 
her so well, she thought. 

The queer conversation she had overheard 
never quite left her thoughts, and the first 
moment she had Holliday to herself, she burst 
out with it. 

Her friend was as surprised and interested 
as she could desire. “ Why, Susan, it is the 
strangest thing! Talking so mysteriously to 
Miss Avery, and — Do you suppose it was 
us he didn’t want to see? ” she asked ungram- 
matically. 

“ It sounded like it. Perhaps he was afraid 
we might tell Clarice.” 

“ I don’t see why he should care about that.” 

“ Well, neither do I, and he may not have 
meant us at all,” said Susan. 

Yes, it is very easy to jump to wrong con- 
clusions. But isn’t it funny that we should 
have discovered at last what was worth while? 


198 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


And, Susan, do you realize that ‘ Yours, B. A.’ 
must be Miss Avery? ’’ 

“ There is another strange thing,” added 
Susan, “ she must have given him some money. 
He said ‘ Thanks for the chink.’ Besides, I 
forgot to tell you. Miss Avery said somebody 
was as sane as she was, and Mr. Lemoyne said 
then he had the key to the situation.” 

‘‘ I think I’ll tell Papa about it,” Holliday 
decided. 

They were on their way home before the op- 
portunity for this presented itself, there were 
so many last things to be done and said. Susan 
felt as if she had known these cordial, warm- 
hearted people always, instead of less than two 
weeks. 

“ Come back in two or three years, and we 
will give you the grandest time you ever 
dreamed of,” said Cousin Jack. 

“ We will, won’t we, Susan? And we’ll go 
to all the balls and the opera, and never go to 
bed, if we don’t wish to,” cried Holliday, whose 
grievance still rankled. 

Susan laughed and said she had already had 
the grandest time she ever dreamed of, but 
she’d love to. 


“ YOURS, B. A.” 


199 


And so, followed by good wishes and loaded 
with fruit and flowers, they said good-by to 
New Orleans. 

When it came to the story about Mr. 
Lemoyne, Mr. Heywood was not greatly im- 
pressed. He agreed it was a queer coincidence 
that they should have found the scraps of that 
letter, and that later Susan should hear a con- 
versation relating to it, but saw nothing more 
in it than this. Thus for the time the matter: 
was dismissed. 


CHAPTER XX 


THE EVERYDAY WORLD 

“ Get your things unpacked as quickly as 
possible, dear. Sam will be in presently to 
carry the trunks up to the attic.” 

Susan, who had been sitting on the edge of 
her trunk talking as fast as her tongue could 
go, dropped on her knees and began to lift out 
its contents. It was both strange and pleasant 
to be at home once more, in the familiar every- 
day atmosphere. In the next room her mother, 
who had arrived a few hours before her, was 
busy at the same task. Outside the rain fell in 
a steady downpour from an uncompromising 
sky. It was just as well, Mrs. Maxwell said, 
for they were not so apt to be interrupted. 

Indoors, too, was all the more attractive in 
contrast with the outside gloom. Silvy had the 
house in the most spick and span order, with 
fresh curtains and covers everywhere. The 
plants, some of which had been visiting at the 
neighbors’, and others cared for in the kitchen, 
200 


THE EVERYDAY WORLD 


201 


were back in their place in the bay window of 
the dining-room. The brass coal-bucket and 
fire-irons shone like the sun; the fruit basket 
on the sideboard was full of apples and 
oranges; the new Harpers, still in its cover, 
lay on the table; favorite friends smiled a wel- 
come from behind the doors of the bookcase. 
Susan, over her unpacking, thought of all this 
pleasantness downstairs waiting to be enjoyed, 
besides so much to tell and hear. 

‘‘New Orleans is perfectly lovely. Mother, 
but after all home is rather nice,” she walked 
to the door to remark. 

“ I am glad to have you say so, dearie,” Mrs. 
Maxwell replied. “ You have had so much 
pleasure of late, I had begun to fear you might 
become dependent upon excitement. To lose 
the power to enjoy quiet, everyday life is one 
of the saddest things that can happen, it seems 
to me. I hardly think your Shyness is in very 
great danger, however,” she added, smiling. 

Wynkyns, who was overjoyed at the return 
of his family, and had been following Susan 
up and down, back and forth, jumped into a 
chair near by, and rubbed his head ingratiat- 
ingly against her elbow. Susan sat down and 


202 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


began to pet him. “ I don’t think I am, 
either,” she said. “ But I’m not so afraid of 
people as I used to be. Nobody could be 
afraid of Holliday’s friends, though.” 

“ Did any one think your pink dress 
pretty? ” asked her mother. “ You certainly 
are growing, Susan. That dress you are 
wearing is short.” 

“ I know it is. Mother. Can’t the hem be 
let down? ” 

“ I hope so. Where is your embroidered 
guimpe ? Hannah is coming this afternoon for 
the clothes. Isn’t that Sam? Have you every- 
thing out of your trunk? ” 

“ I shall have in a minute,” and Susan ran 
back to her work. 

When the trunks had been carried off, she 
stood a little disconsolately, surveying the piles 
of clothing to be put away. At Holliday’s it 
was different. Gertie did all her unpacking. 
She had no responsibility. It was on the tip 
of Susan’s tongue to ask if she might not leave 
the rest of her work till after lunch, but she 
thought better of it. Mother would say she 
was spoiled, or would perhaps do it herself. 
So she decided to get things under cover, at any 


THE EVERYDAY WORLD 


203 


rate. She opened the wardrobe doors and all 
the drawers in the bureau, and went about, 
dropping this garment here, and that there, in 
very rapid fashion. 

‘‘ Why, how quickly you are through,” Mrs. 
Maxwell said from the door, fifteen minutes 
later. “ And now, Susan,” she added, ‘‘ as you 
will be very busy after to-day making up for 
lost time in your lessons, if I were you I’d 
sit down and write to Mrs. Macfarland at 
once.” 

“Oh, Mother! do I have to? — now?” It 
was really too much, when she wanted to go 
down and stir the dining-room fire, and then, 
with Wynk and a book and some apples, enjoy 
herself. 

“ Tell her how much I thank her for all the 
pleasure she gave you. You need not write 
more than a few lines, but the sooner you do it 
the more gracious it will be. A prompt note is 
after all a small return for such kindness.” 
Mother had a dreadfully convincing way of 
putting things. Susan went wearily to her 
desk. The lunch bell rang before she had 
finished. 

She had begun to carry out her postponed 


^04. CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

program, and curled up on the sofa was cutting 
the pages of the new magazine, wondering 
meanwhile what Holliday was doing, when 
Bessie came in. 

“ I left my waterproof and rubbers in the 
kitchen,” she explained, after greeting Susan 
in what Joe used to call the long-lost-brother 
fashion. “ It’s pouring like everything. I am 
so glad you have come home. It has been 
rather stupid with only Lily. Nettie has 
chicken-pox. I saw Holliday a minute. I sup- 
pose you had a grand time. Mrs. Boone says 
maybe next year she’ll take Lily and me.” 

“ I hope she will, Bessie,” and Susan began 
forthwith to enlarge upon the pleasures in 
store. Everybody enjoys giving points to 
prospective travelers, out of a larger experi- 
ence. 

Bessie listened with flattering interest, ac- 
cepting an apple the while, but it transpired 
later on that she too had things to tell. There 
had been goings-on at Mrs. Knight’s school, 
among the boarders. The boarding pupils 
were limited to twenty, and were supposed to 
be under the strictest guardianship, but stories 
were floating about of all sorts of escapades 


THE EVERYDAY WORLD 


205 


indulged in by these same young ladies. A 
spirit of daring and bravado pervaded the 
school. Girls had even stolen forth in the 
night, it was said, to talk to boys through the 
hedge. It was suspected that notes circulated 
between them and the High School boys, but 
the authorities had been puzzled to detect the 
method of conducting the correspondence. 

‘‘ And then, what do you think? ” cried 
Bessie. “ Miss Kemp found a note in a bag 
of chocolate drops.” 

This was exciting indeed! ‘‘Whose choco- 
lates were they? ” Susan asked. 

“ Alice Carrington’s. You know the girls 
are allowed to go shopping if their marks are 
good, two of them each week, with a teacher. 
They are allowed candy once a week too, just 
so much, and the other girls always give them 
commissions. Some of the boys have been 
leaving notes with Miss Carry at Browinski’s, 
and she would slip them in with the candy. 
For some reason Alice had not noticed this 
one. It was on thin paper twisted into a little 
wad. Miss Kemp is pretty sharp, though, and 
she examined it and then showed it to Mrs. 
Knight. It was addressed to Rena Clark. 


206 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


Mrs. Knight was furious and pitched into 
Alice and Rena both. They both vowed they 
didn’t know a thing about it, and they didn’t, 
— about that particular note.” 

“ Wasn’t the note signed? ” Susan asked. 

“ In some sort of hieroglyphics ; the boys all 
do that. Of course the girls would not tell 
on them.” 

At this point a tap on the window pane 
made them both jump. 

‘‘ It is Charlie,” exclaimed Susan, going to 
the window, and sure enough there stood that 
merry youth, defying the rain in his rubber 
coat and cap. “ Go around to the side door 
and I’ll let you in,” she called. 

‘‘ Can Dick come in, too? ” Charlie asked as 
she opened it. “I found him at the gate, too 
wet to go to the front door and too modest to 
go to the back.” 

“ It isn’t the first time I have been to the 
back door, is it, Susan? ” said Dick. “ Only 
the last time it was the kitchen door.” 

“ Then I’m jealous. She never let me in at 
the kitchen. Mercy — , Susan, we’re making 
an awful puddle on this floor! ” 

“ It is linoleum, it won’t do any harm, but 


THE EVERYDAY WORLD 207 

I’m very glad to see you,” Susan assured them, 
laughing, as they slipped off their raincoats. 

“Bless me! If here isn’t Bess,” Charlie 
said as they entered the dining-room. “ Well, 
this settles it. There’s nothing left for me to 
tell. How long has she been here? ” He sank 
upon the hearth rug beside Wynkyns, who 
eyed him with suspicion and prepared for 
flight. “ Don’t go, Wynkie. I am always 
kind to little pussy.” 

“ I’ll be there in a minute,” Susan called 
from the pantry. “ I want you to have some 
of our real New Orleans pralines.” 

When she had passed them around and they 
had been approved, Dick said they were almost 
as good as cookies just out of the oven, and 
he couldn’t say more in their praise. 

“ Was that the time you went to the kitchen? 
Susan, you never invited me to eat hot 
cookies,” cried Charlie. “ I didn’t know Dick 
was such an intimate friend.” 

“You don’t always know quite as much as 
you think you do,” Dick observed. 

“ Say, Charlie,” said Bessie, “ do you know 
who wrote the note that was found in the 
candy bag? ” 


208 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


‘‘ Me? How should I know? ’’ was the In- 
nocent reply. ‘‘ But did you hear about old 
Knightie rowing up Browinski? She would 
withdraw her patronage immediately if steps 
were not taken, and so on. Browinski got mad 
as fire, and told her she might go somewhere 
else with her patronage. It wouldn’t break 
him. There’s one thing, the more she fusses 
the more certain it is to go on,” he added. 

“ Why? ” asked Susan. 

“ Well, she is just keeping up the fun. 
That is all it is.” 

‘‘ I don’t see much fun in those slushy 
notes,” Dick observed. 

“ No, Grandpa, I suppose you don’t. But 
it is fun to show the old lady she isn’t as smart 
as she thinks. If you won’t tell. I’ll show you 
something.” Charlie took a folded paper 
from his pocket. 

“ Tell who? Mrs. Knight? ” Dick asked. 

“ You should say, ‘ Tell whom? ’ ” corrected 
Charlie. “ But though you are illiterate. I’ll 
trust you.” He held the paper, which ap- 
peared quite blank, to the fire, and presently 
writing began to show upon it. 

‘‘ I know,” exclaimed Bessie. “ It is milk. 


THE EVERYDAY WORLD 


209 


That is the latest. Rena has to drink a glass 
before she goes to bed, and the girls steal it 
or beg it from her to write letters.” 

“ Read us your billet-doux, Charlie,” said 
Dick. 

“What! so much company this wet dayl 
I thought I should be the only caller,” said a» 
voice behind them, and there in the door stood 
Miss Grant. She minded the weather as lit- 
tle as the boys, but she carried an umbrellai 
and in consequence did not shed so much watei: 
when she came indoors. 

Before she had fairly accepted the hospi- 
tality of the big chair and the pralines, Holli- 
day’s bright face looked in. “ A party, and 
without me? ” she cried, surveying the sociable 
group. 

“ Never, if I have anything to do with it,” 
answered Dick, gallantly. 

“ How sweetly he rises to the occasion, 
doesn’t he? ” murmured Charlie. “ Dick’s our 
model boy. Awfully glad to see you home, 
Holliday. Haven’t had a bit of fun since you 
left.” 

“ You needn’t believe that, Holliday,” Bes- 
sie interposed. “ He has just been telling — ” 


^10 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


but Charlie shook his head at her, putting a 
finger on his lip. 

“ By the way, what were you discussing 
when I came in? ” Miss Grant inquired, pass- 
ing the pralines to her next neighbor. “ As 
I stood in the hall I heard Bessie exclaim 
‘ Milk ’ in the tone of one who had unearthed 
some dark plot.” 

They all laughed except Holliday. “ What 
about milk?” she wanted to know. “They 
look guilty, Miss Grant.” 

“ Charlie knows most about it,” said Dick. 
“ Ask him. He was on the point of reading 
a love letter, when you came in.” 

Charlie waved the poker threateningly. 

“We were talking about the trouble at the 
Knight School,” Bessie explained. 

“Yes? I have heard about it,” Miss Grant 
said coolly. “ I suppose Charlie was showing 
you how it was done.” 

“ Now, Miss Grant, you needn’t believe 
everything Dick says. I said Mrs. Knight’s 
carrying on so, only made matters worse. 
There’s nothing awful about it. It is only 
fun.” 

“ There may be truth in what you say, but 



‘“A PARTY, AND WITHOUT ME?’ SHE CRIED.” 





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THE EVERYDAY WORLD 211 

on the other hand I am not one who thinks 
there is excuse for everything in the word 
‘ fun.’ I have some sympathy for Mrs. 
Knight. There is, I think, always danger in 
such underhand, clandestine performances. 
They are exciting, I suppose, but I do like 
people to be honest and open, fair and square. 
I dislike silly sentimentality, and that is what 
it leads to. It is playing with fire in more 
ways than one.” Miss Grant spoke with em- 
phasis, and somehow in her wholesome, candid 
presence, writing notes with milk and conceal- 
ing them in candy bags, seemed less amusing 
and rather tricky. 

“ Perhaps such things are inevitable, like 
whooping cough and measles, but I should be 
glad to have my particular boys and girls 
escape,” she added. 

Charlie, evidently feeling it desirable to have 
a change of subject, plunged into the first 
thing that occurred to him. “ Say, Miss 
Grant, do you think it is always wrong to tell 
a lie?” 

“ Why, Charlie Willard, of course she 
does,” Bessie cried, horrified. 

‘‘ I think you aren’t going to entrap me into 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

an argument,” Miss Grant answered, smiling. 
“ I know you agree with me that truth is 
our dearest possession. Civilized society is 
founded upon it. You know yourself how you 
feel towards a person whose word you can’t 
trust. How insulting you feel it is to be called 
a liar. On the other hand if the opportunity 
ever comes to you to save a noble life, we’ll 
say as the nun did in ‘ Les Miserables,’ by 
telling an untruth, then tell it. But the ques- 
tion whether it is ever right to sacrifice truth 
for any small, personal end, is beneath the con- 
sideration of well-bred persons.” 

“ Now will you be good? ” whispered Holli- 
day, and everybody laughed at Charlie’s 
crushed expression. 

When Susan’s visitors were all leaving at 
once, she remembered she had a little St. Jo- 
seph for Bessie, and ran upstairs to get it. It 
was in a box with some other things, she knew, 
but where had she put it? She opened one 
drawer after another without finding it. “ I 
put everything away in such a hurry this morn- 
ing I can’t remember where it is,” she had to 
tell Bessie. “ I’ll look for it to-night.” 

“ It always pays to put your mind on the 


THE EVERYDAY WORLD 213 

thing you are doing,” her mother remarked, 
when Susan returned to her search after Bes- 
sie had gone. 

“ I suppose it does,” she owned meekly. It 
is funny,” she added, “ I didn’t hear a sermon 
all the time I was in New Orleans, except on 
Sunday, and I have heard two or three to- 
day.” 


CHAPTER XXI 


ONLY A JOKE 

“ Do look at Phil and Charlie ! Don’t you 
know they have been up to some mischief?” 
exclaimed Nettie Tryon. 

A meeting of the Thimbles was just over 
and she was standing with Susan at the gate 
of Christmas Tree House, talking to Holliday. 
The two boys were coming towards them, 
plainly in high glee. 

“ What have you been doing now? ” Holli- 
day demanded. 

“ Please, ma’am, nothing at all,” laughed 
Phil. 

“ Oh, go on and tell,” urged his companion. 
“ It’s the best joke you ever heard.” 

“ Tell it yourself if you want to,” said Phil. 

“ Do tell, please, especially if it is funny,” 
begged the girls. 

“ Well,” began Charlie, nothing loath, “ you 
know Puckers? ” 

They knew him. He was one of the young- 
214 


ONLY A JOKE 


215 


est professors at the High School, and because 
of some slight facial peculiarity, had earned 
this nickname. 

“ Well, Puckers asked Phil for Miss Carol 
Johnston’s address. He wanted to send her 
a complimentary copy of his new book. It 
seems he met her at a dance last winter and 
was smitten, but Carol has been out of town 
ever since. Phil, the rascal, gave him the 
wrong address ! Don’t you know Miss Carrie 
Johnston who lives on Sixth Street? She goes 
to our church, Susan.” 

“ That funny-looking Miss Johnston who 
gives music lessons?” Susan exclaimed. 
“ Why, she is an old, old maid.” 

“ You see,” Phil interposed, “ he said he had 
looked in the telephone book and there were 
so many Johnstons he didn’t know t’other from 
which. That put it into my head. It was all 
on the spur of the moment.” 

“ Oh, but he did it up brown, though,” con- 
tinued Charlie. ‘‘ He told him to be sure to 
write Caroline.” 

“ Phil Grant! You ought to be ashamed! ” 
Holliday cried, laughing. “ Do you suppose 
she got it? ” 


216 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


“ Indeed she did, and she is tickled to death. 
She brought it over to show to Mother. I 
heard her talking in the parlor. She said she 
met Professor Miles once last winter at a 
church social, and liked him ever so much, 
but really she had hardly seen him since.” 
Charlie’s manner was very coy as he repeated 
this. 

“ I think it was mean,” Nettie said flatly. 

Now what’s the harm? ” demanded Phil. 
“ Puckers can send another to Carol.” 

“ But it is making fun of poor Miss Johns- 
ton,” said Susan. 

“ She deserves to be made fun of for being 
so silly,” Holliday declared. 

“ She’ll never know. She has written him 
the sweetest note by this time,” laughed 
Charlie. 

“ Would that I might see Puckers when the 
truth breaks upon him ! ” said Phil. 

“ When he does, ‘ Blessings on you, little 
man! ’ ” and Charlie patted him gleefully on 
the shoulder. 

“ It was all a mistake, which I regret deeply. 
It is easy to be confused with such a number 
of Johnstons,” Phil replied solemnly. 


ONLY A JOKE 


m 

Boys, you are coming to Bessie’s candy- 
pulling Friday night, aren’t you? ” Holliday 
asked. 

“ Surely we are, and don’t you forget it,” re- 
sponded Charlie, and went off singing, 


** All the darkies will be there, 

Don’t forget to curl your hair.'J 

‘‘ I have a compliment for you,” Holliday 
called after him. ‘‘ Somebody said you were a 
typical minister’s son.” 

“ Bessie wants us all to wear gingham 
dresses,” Susan said as she and Nettie walked 
on together. ‘‘It is more fun to pull candy 
if you have on something that will wash.” 

The idea of a candy-pulling had been re- 
ceived with joy when Bessie proposed it. For 
weeks and weeks they had done nothing but 
dig, Holliday said. It was time for a little di- 
version. 

Bessie said a candy-pulling was the easiest 
thing you could have, that was really fun. It 
didn’t matter if the cook was ill and the house- 
maid had to leave early, for you could do it 
all yourself. The Manns were often in trou- 
ble about servants. 


218 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


Her guests were invited for half -past seven 
and came promptly, the girls looking so pretty 
in their wash dresses that Dick exclaimed he 
thought they were not going to dress up. 

“ Mine is nothing but batiste,” Lily ex- 
plained, smoothing her blue ruffles. “ Miss 
Tillie hasn’t finished any of my ginghams, but 
I thought this would do.” 

“ I didn’t mean anything as pretty as that,” 
Bessie said. “ It makes me look like the cook, 
which I am. Come out to the kitchen, all of 
you. We shall have to wait on ourselves. 
Some of you can butter the plates while I 
watch the candy. Susan, you be ready to pour 
in the vanilla. It is there on the table.” 

From the kettle on the stove a delicious per- 
fume arose. Bessie stood over it, watching and 
testing a few drops of its contents in cold water 
now and then. It was almost done, she re- 
ported. She was famous for her candy. 

Part of it is to be nut,” she said. ‘‘ That goes 
in the big platter. Now, Susan! Now, 
Tom! ” And the one dropped in the vanilla, 
and the other lifted the kettle and poured its 
contents into the plates, which were then car- 
ried outside to cool. 


ONLY A JOKE 


S19 


Susan noticed Tom and Charlie with their 
heads together, and caught some significant 
glances in Dick’s direction. She was wonder- 
ing what it meant when Holliday whispered, 
“ They are going to play a joke on Dick. I 
made Tom tell me.” And drawing her aside, 
she continued, “ Charlie has some percussion 
caps, and after a while they are going to put 
them on the walk and send Dick out.” 

“ Oh, but — ” Susan began. 

“ Now, Susan, don’t you go and make a fuss. 
It won’t hurt him,” Holliday cried, before 
Susan had time to finish her sentence. “ It will 
just upset his gravity, as Charlie says, Dick is 
so terribly dignified at times.” 

“ I’m not going to make a fuss. Only 
I don’t think they ought to,” Susan said un- 
comfortably. 

“ I’m sorry I told you, but if you say any- 
thing they will laugh at you.” 

This was perfectly true, Susan knew. If she 
protested they would say she was taking Dick’s 
part, and anyway she hated to be a marplot. 
It probably wouldn’t do any harm. J ust then 
Nettie called, “ Dick, I believe those boys have 
some joke on you,” and he answered cheer- 


220 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


fully, “ Don’t worry about me, I’m used to 
it.” 

“ Boys, you might bring it in now,” Bessie 
said, and obediently they trooped out. 

“ There is one more plate,” Charlie an- 
nounced, after his second trip. “It is on the 
cellar door. You get it, Dick.” 

Dick, who was busy with a knife getting 
Susan’s candy out of the plate for her, an- 
swered, “ Very well, in a minute.” He had not 
finished his task when Miss Carrie Mann 
looked in to say some one wanted him at the 
telephone. 

Nobody realized that Bessie had gone for the 
missing plate, though Lily afterwards remem- 
bered hearing her say she was afraid Dick’s 
candy would be too hard. At the moment they 
were all very much occupied. Then suddenly 
they were startled by two sharp reports, fol- 
lowed by screams. 

“ Somebody is shot! Open the door, 
quick! ” Holliday cried, laughing. 

“ Where’s Bessie? It’s Bessie! ” Susan ex- 
claimed. 

For a moment there was confusion. It is 
not easy to get rid of a mass of sticky candy 


ONLY A JOKE 


221 


in a hurry. Still, it couldn’t have been more 
than two seconds before the door was opened, 
to reveal Eessie with her dress in flames, 
screaming in terror and pain. 

It was Charlie, who could move with won- 
derful quickness in spite of his lame ankles, 
who saw the piece of old carpet, used to cover 
the ice-cream freezer and left hanging on a 
line near by, and dashing down the kitchen 
steps had it around Bessie before any of the 
others had their scattered wits working. The 
carpet was damp and quickly smothered the 
fire. 

Somebody ran to call a doctor while they 
got Bessie into her father’s office, protesting 
bravely that she was not much hurt, and a 
young physician from the next block came 
hurrying in. Mrs. Mann and Miss Carrie 
were with Bessie, and Elbe sat on the stairs 
and cried. A forlorn group gathered in the 
parlor and spoke in whispers, feeling in the 
way, yet unwilling to leave till they heard 
whether Bessie was badly injured. 

‘‘ It would not have hurt me,” Dick said 
when the cause of the accident had been ex- 
plained. “ It was Bessie’s thin dress.” 


222 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


“ It is my fault,” confessed Charlie, wrap- 
ping his handkerchief about his right hand, 
which was scorched. ‘‘ I was the one who pro- 
posed it. I’m your villain, Holliday. You 
were right after all.” 

“We are all villains,” Holliday said. “ We 
let you do it.” 

“ They were my caps,” put in Phil. 

“ And I was a coward,” Susan owned sadly. 
“ I was afraid you would laugh at me if I said 
you ought not to do it.” 

There was some little comfort in confess- 
ing, although it didn’t help Bessie, as Net- 
tie sternly pointed out. 

By and by Tom, who had been running er- 
rands, came in to say that Bessie was not so 
badly burned as they feared at first. The up- 
per part of her body not at all, except her 
hands. The fire had been put out so quickly 
the burns were not any of them deep. So they 
went home reheved. 

The next day, however, the news was not 
so good. A fragment of one of the caps had 
imbedded itself in her right ankle, and there 
was danger of blood poisoning. This danger 


ONLY A JOKE 


passed happily, however, and in a week Bes- 
sie was beginning to recover. 

“ Uncle Allan was going to take Charlie to 
Chicago with him next month, but now he has 
to stay at home for punishment,” Lily re- 
ported. 

This was a severe punishment for Charlie, 
as they all knew. He had been talking all 
winter about this trip to Chicago. Everybody 
was sorry for him, for the mischievous boy was 
a great favorite. His grandmother even tried 
to beg him off, but Dr. Willard was firm. 
There had been too much practical joking, he 
said. 

Phil, with the feeling perhaps that to do 
something disagreeable made up a little for his 
share in the unfortunate accident, went to Pro- 
fessor Miles and apologized to him for giving 
the wrong address. “ And I’m blessed if he 
didn’t laugh,” Phil told a little group gathered 
in the garden of Christmas Tree House. “ It 
had been a bit awkward, he said, but no real 
harm done. Puckers is all wool and double 
width.” 

“ We have to choose between the sands of 


224 < CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

pleasure and the rock of duty,” observed 
Holliday, sententiously and irrelevantly, 

“Who is pointing morals now?” asked 
Susan. 

“ Do you suppose that old Wise Man ever 
had any fun? ” Charlie inquired pensively. 

“ Why, Charlie, you can have fun without 
being in mischief. Think of our winter picnic, 
for instance,” said Susan. 

“ I wonder what became of all the candy? ” 
Nettie suddenly remarked. In the days that 
had passed since the accident no one had so 
much as thought of it tmtil now the news had 
come to them that Bessie was very much better. 


CHAPTER XXII 
Bessie’s room 

They all longed to make up to Bessie for 
her painful injury. As she grew better she 
was stormed with attentions. Flowers, fruit, 
and every description of dainty found their 
way to the Manns’ door, in an endless pro- 
cession. When she was ready for company, 
her friends were ready and eager to sit by her 
and amuse her hours at a time. Holliday gave 
up the matinee to take her turn in reading to 
her. Susan put aside her objections to en- 
countering the Mann family, and endured 
Miss Carrie’s questions and Elbe’s jokes, for 
the sake of cheering Bessie. 

Bessie had never been ill before. Now that 
she was withdrawn from the family life, her 
worth was discovered. The Manns lived in a 
merry, helter-skelter way. When anything 
was mislaid, and it happened a dozen times a 
day, somebody was sure to say, “ Ask Bessie.” 

Everything now had to give way to her. 

225 


226 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


Bessie was in her mother’s room, and in the 
general shifting which became necessary, Ellie 
had to sleep with Patsy. “ I don’t wonder 
Bessie was cross,” Ellie said, “ having to room 
with that restless child.” 

“ She will be some time in recovering from 
the shock,” the doctor told them. “ She must 
have a room to herself.” But how could it be 
managed? 

Then some one had an inspiration. There 
was that little sewing-room at the back of the 
house. Why not cut another window in it 
and let her have that? 

Miss Grant, who was often at the Manns’, 
thought it would be the very thing, and sug- 
gested keeping it as a surprise. “ For her 
birthday,” said Carrie. And so the plan 
grew. 

First, Mrs. Boone hearing of it asked to be 
allowed to paper it. Bessie admired Lily’s 
room so much. She had sent to Chicago for 
that paper, and had a roll left. She would 
write at once and see if it could be matched. 
Mrs. Mann said she should have a new white 
bed, and this suggested white enamel paint for 
some other pieces of furniture. 


/ 


BESSIE’S ROOM 


m 


Tom offered to do the painting, and the 
other boys, hearing of it, begged to be allowed 
to help. So under Miss Grant’s supervision 
the Spades took up the paint-brush as one man. 

The girls had no idea of being left behind, 
and devoted all their spare moments to sewing. 
Right under Bessie’s nose the covers for her 
cushions were made, while she supposed them 
to be for the bazaar. Everybody who heard 
of the new room was interested, and gifts came 
pouring in as if for a wedding. 

By her birthday she was beginning to walk 
about. “ Well, Bess,” her father said, “ we 
are going to give you a room to yourself. It 
isn’t a very big one, but I think it will hold 
you.” 

Bessie, who couldn’t imagine where there 
was an extra room, big or little, to be had in 
that house, followed him in much wonderment, 
while the other members of the family hung 
over the banisters, and peeped from doors, un- 
der orders not to make a fuss. 

Nothing was lacking in that little rose-col- 
ored chamber, from the pincushion to the white 
frilled window curtains. Bessie stood at the 
door and stared in bewilderment. In the 


^28 CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

Manns’ big, shabby house, this dainty room 
was almost unbelievable. 

“ I don’t imderstand,” she faltered. “ It is 
like a fairy tale. As if a fairy had waved a 
wand. It can’t be for me? ” 

‘‘ Yes, it is, my dear, and you deserve it, too, 
for your patience,” her mother said, kissing 
her. And Patsy here burst in and began point- 
ing out the beauties, as if Bessie had lost her 
eyes. 

Everywhere were little cards wishing her a 
happy birthday, and many happy returns; 
from the family, from the boys and girls, from 
Miss Grant and the Brocade Lady; and each 
card was attached to something both useful 
and pretty. Bessie, not being quite strong 
yet, was rather overcome. She sat down in 
the rocking-chair in which were the pretty 
cushions she had admired when Holliday and 
Lily were working on them; beneath her feet 
was a soft, mossy green rug, on the wall before 
her hung a water color of an autumn wood- 
land. 

“ I can never thank everybody enough,” she 
said helplessly. 

“ It doesn’t look much like us, does it? ” her 


BESSIE’S ROOM 


sister Carrie said, from the doorway. “ It is 
little and peaceful and pretty, and we are big 
and noisy and shabby.” 

“ It is big enough,” said Bessie, rising at 
once to the defense of her room. “ I am going 
to ask the girls to bring their mending next 
Saturday. I’m well now.” 

“ Did you ever see any one improve as Bes- 
sie has, and all in a minute?” the Brocade 
Lady exclaimed one day. “ Why, she is grow- 
ing almost pretty.” 

“ All Bessie needed was a little room,” Mrs. 
Boone answered, laughing, and there was much 
truth in the joke. 

She had been well for some months when the 
Brocade Lady made her remark, but the birth- 
day room had not lost one bit of its charm. 
“ I’m happy when I am in it, and I’m happy 
thinking about it when I’m away,” she told 
Miss Grant, “ It is fun to wake up in it every 
morning.” 

Miss Grant said she wished Phil had a room 
it was fun to wake up in. 

“ We have had lots of fun this winter, but 
after all I believe Bessie’s room was the most 
fun of all,” Holliday said. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


SKETCHES 

In these days Mr. Lemoyne appeared to be 
devoting himself almost exclusively to his 
book, — at least, so Miss Cornelia said. The 
first enthusiasm over him having passed, some 
brave spirits were heard to declare he did not 
know as much about art as he professed, that 
in fact his lectures had been found word for 
word in certain volumes in the library. How- 
ever, there was some argument about this. He 
did not claim to have original ideas on all sub- 
jects; of course he quoted authorities. Every 
lecturer did. Miss Cornelia Reynor was heard 
to say. 

“ Still, Cornelia,” objected Mrs. Boone, 
“ you can’t blame a person for begrudging five 
or ten dollars for a course on art, when they 
could have gone to the library and read it all 
in Morris and Ruskin.” 

I am sure you might say the same about 
230 


SKETCHES 


231 


our papers for the missionary society,” insisted 
Miss Cornelia. “ Anybody could look up the 
information for themselves, but we save them 
the trouble.” 

“ Nobody pays to hear us, though,” Mrs. 
Boone replied. “ What is he doing here so 
long, anyway? Why should he come here to 
write a book on Southern homes? ” 

Miss Reynor did not know. “ But so long as 
he behaves himself, I can’t see that is anybody’s 
business but his own,” she said firmly. 

“ That is all very well,” Mrs. Boone re- 
marked later to the Brocade Lady, ‘‘ and I 
wouldn’t say anything to Cornelia, but there 
is a question whether he does behave himself. 
I am not saying how I heard it, but it came to 
me not so very indirectly, that he is a gambler ; 
that these frequent business trips are for some 
such purpose. I took a dislike to him at Lily’s 
party last Christmas. He had been so nice to 
the girls, helping them plan their teas, that I 
asked him to come over with Cornelia, if he 
cared to. He spent the whole evening flirting 
with Clarice Dumont. Sitting around in cor- 
ners and behind palms. Why, the man must be 
well over thirty! ” 


232 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


The Brocade Lady too was beginning to 
have her doubts about Miss Reynor’s boarder. 

That letter to the Thomases that Cornelia 
makes so much of, does not amount to a paper 
of pins,” she said. “ Annie doesn’t know where 
that Mr. Johnston is, and she owned she was 
not at all familiar with his handwriting.” 

‘‘ Dear me, you don’t say so ! Really I think 
it ought to be looked into,” exclaimed Mrs. 
Boone. 

Whether or not he was unconsciously influ- 
enced by such adverse criticisms, Mr. Lemoyne 
began about this time to refer to an early de- 
parture. He might be summoned away on a 
moment’s notice, he said, and he packed most 
of his belongings and sent them off somewhere. 

Mr. Reynor could not refrain from hoping 
he would not be kept in suspense for long ; but 
Mr. Lemoyne paid no attention to him, contin- 
uing to address Miss Cornelia, saying gayly 
that it was better to be ready and not go, than 
to go and not be ready. A thousand times bet- 
ter, when going meant parting from his kind 
hostess! Words like these warmed Miss Cor- 
nelia’s heart. Her brother, who like Mrs. 
Boone had heard rumors regarding those trips 


SKETCHES 


233 


to Cincinnati, decided it was best not to trouble 
her with them. 

In view of a possible early departure, Mr. 
Lemoyne made a courteous request to be al- 
lowed to sketch a few interior details in Christ- 
mas Tree House and make a few measure- 
ments. The main stairway and the mantel in 
the school-room, he mentioned in particular. 
Mr. Hey wood saw no objection, but observed 
that the mantel in question was rather common- 
place. To which Mr. Lemoyne replied that 
there was something in its admirable propor- 
tions and simple lines that appealed to him. 
He trusted he did not make himself annoying, 
and begged to be told if he should be in the 
way. 

He was assured he would not be in the way. 
Almost any afternoon the school-room would 
be at his disposal, and Mrs. Lawrence’s ab- 
sence in Washington for a week made it 
equally convenient for his sketch of the stair- 
case. 

So it chanced that Holliday, coming down- 
stairs one afternoon, ready for a walk, found 
Mr. Lemoyne in the hall making strokes on his 
drawing board with thoughtful deliberation. 


2S4i 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


Up to this time she had never found an op- 
portunity to ask him about his acquaintance 
with Miss Avery. A few steps from the bot- 
tom she paused, buttoning her glove. “ Mr. 
Lemoyne,” she said, with rather startling 
abruptness, “ do you know a person — a lady 
— named Avery?” 

At the question a singular expression crossed 
his face. ‘‘Avery?” he repeated vaguely, 
“ Avery? ” 

“ Yes, Miss Beatrice Avery.” 

“ I have met a person of that name. Yes. 
Why do you ask? ” 

“ Susan said she saw you talking to her at 
my aunt’s in New Orleans. I wondered if she 
could have been mistaken.” 

In the drawing-room Dick was waiting for 
Holliday. “ It took him a long time to decide 
whether he knew her or not,” he remarked 
when they were outside. 

Now that spring was in the air a walking 
club had been organized by the girls and boys, 
of which Miss Grant was the moving spirit. 
She was an enthusiastic botanist, and knew a 
good deal about birds; and without any at- 
tempt to be instructive she made herself so in- 


SKETCHES 


2S5 


teresting that no one willingly missed one of 
those afternoons in the country. 

As they walked on towards the corner where 
they were to meet the others and take the car, 
Holliday replied, “ Yes, it really made me feel 
there was something queer about his knowing 
her.” Then she went on to tell Dick about 
the conversation Susan had overheard. “We 
thought perhaps he was afraid we might tell 
Clarice,” she said. 

“ Is that affair still going on? ” Dick asked 
in surprise. 

The sight of Susan and Charlie waving to 
them put Mr. Lemoyne and Clarice out of 
their minds for the rest of the afternoon, but 
meeting Dick several days later, Holliday 
told him that the gentleman had satisfactorily 
explained his embarrassment at her ques- 
tion. 

“ He said Miss Avery nursed his mother in 
her last illness, and from the way he spoke it 
can’t have been very long ago. The circum- 
stances were extremely distressing, he said, and 
he could not bear any reference to it. You see, 
I took him by surprise. He had some business 
with Miss Avery that day.” 


236 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


Dick whistled softly. ‘‘ He didn’t look 
exactly melancholy,” he remarked. 

“ And he didn’t when he talked to Miss 
Avery,” Susan added. “ He thanked her for 
the chink.” 

“ I have no doubt he had lent her money,” 
interrupted Holliday. “ I don’t care, Susan, 
I felt sorry for him, and you would have, too.” 

“Rats!” was Dick’s irreverent exclama- 
tion. 

Mr. Lemoyne was unlucky in regard to the 
school-room drawings. Something was al- 
ways happening to interrupt him. The ser- 
vants were cleaning, or washing windows, or 
the girls were there. It was perhaps foolish, he 
owned, but he liked to be alone when he was 
making those little drawings. If “ Southern 
Homes ” was to amount to anything, it must 
be in the spirit in which it was done. In a 
way he dreamed his best work, he said. What- 
ever this might mean. Miss Cornelia felt it to 
be so impressive that she was impelled to re- 
peat it to Reggie. 

The Poet was guilty of heartless laughter, 

“ I am sure, Reggie, it sounds very much 
like some of the things you say,” she exclaimed. 


SKETCHES 


m 

‘‘ Please call my attention to it if I ever do it 
again, Cornelia,” was his response. 

One of Mr. Lemoyne’s attempts in the 
school-room was interrupted by Robin Bright, 
who came in search of Holliday, and decided 
to wait, when he failed to find her. He sat on 
a chair swinging his heels and firing questions 
at the artist in a thoroughly obnoxious way, 
until Holliday and Susan came in. 

‘‘Don’t go, Mr. Lemoyne,” Holliday said 
cordially. “ We are just going to play a game 
or two of ‘ Tommy Come Tickle Me,’ with 
Robin here in the window.” But the gentle- 
man insisted upon withdrawing, not in the best 
of humors. 

“ Say, Holliday,” Robin began, after he had 
been Tommy several times and the first joy 
of victory had waned a little, “ Mr. Lemoyne 
has a key to the cupboard.” 

“ Nonsense, Robin! What do you mean? ” 

“ I peeped in the door and he was looking 
in, and he shut it quick! ” Robin brought his 
hands together with a smack. “ And he put 
the key in his pocket.” 

“ Robin, that is nonsense. Here ^s my 


238 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


key,” — Holliday produced it, — “ and Mr. Le- 
moyne couldn’t have another.” 

Robin was a famous romancer, and on this 
occasion as upon others little attention was 
paid to his story. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE CHIMNEY CUPBOARD 

Susan was greatly disappointed that she 
could not go walking with the others that deli- 
cious spring afternoon, but Mother had made 
an engagement for her to have her coat fitted. 

“ You need it now, Susan,” she said, “ and 
if you put the tailor off, some one will get your 
place and there is no telling when you will 
have it.” 

This was true, and Susan wanted her new 
coat ; but it seemed a dreadfully stupid way to 
spend the afternoon when you might be in the 
country. To make her regret deeper, the 
tailor was ready for her, and kept her so short 
a time that she might have asked the walkers to 
wait if she had known. 

It was too late now to think about this, how- 
ever, and she walked slowly homewards, feel- 
ing as she used to when she was a little girl 
and had nobody to play with. She stopped at 
the Manns’, but Mrs. Boone had taken Bes- 

239 


240 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


sie for a drive. Then she remembered the book 
Holliday had told her she might have. It 
was the second volume of a series in which they 
were deeply interested. 

“ I think it is on the table in my room,” 
Holliday had said. “ If it isn’t, it is on the re- 
volving bookcase in the school-room.” 

She went first to Holliday’s room, and not 
finding what she was in search of went down 
to the school-room. The house was very quiet. 
Mrs. Lawrence was still in Washington, and 
the only servants she saw were Parker, who 
was polishing the brass in the library, and Me- 
linda the cook, singing to herself in the kitchen, 
with the door ajar. 

The school-room looked inviting, in its 
orderly stillness. One of the side windows was 
partially raised, and the muslin curtain moved 
ever so slightly to and fro. The revolving 
bookcase was in the corner between this win- 
dow and the front one, past which the stone 
steps curved up to the porch. 

Susan did not at first see the book and sat 
down on the floor to look for it, and when she 
came upon it on the bottom shelf, still sitting 
there Turk fashion she began to turn its pages. 


THE CHIMNEY CUPBOARD Ml 

In a few seconds more she had forgotten where 
she was. 

Above her head the curtain moved softly 
in the breeze, outside the cheerful clatter of 
the street sounded, and at the other end of 
the hall Melinda was singing to herself. The 
school-room door was half open. 

The click of the latch aroused Susan. With 
a nervous start she peeped around the book- 
case, expecting to see Parker, but instead, it 
was Mr. Lemoyne, and he had closed the door 
behind him. He had come, of course, to finish 
his drawing. Susan felt annoyed at the idea 
of having to scramble out from behind the 
bookcase. She hesitated a moment, and in 
that moment, completely shielded from view 
as she was, she saw Mr. Lemoyne lay his draw- 
ing book on the table and walk to the mantel. 
She could not see what he was doing there, 
but — surely that was the sound of a key turn- 
ing in a lock! 

She remembered Robin’s story. Had he a 
key, after all? But why should he open the 
cupboard? Was he a thief? Susan’s heart 
was in her throat at the thought that Holli- 
day^s miniature was probably there, the one 


242 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


Madame Theo had given her. Mr. Lemoyne 
had seen and admired it. Susan knew it was 
very valuable, for both Holliday’s father and 
aunt had insisted it must be put in the safe, 
yet somehow the willful Holliday had man- 
aged to keep it. 

She wore it on a chain inside her dress, and 
only this morning the clasp had broken and 
she had put it in the cupboard for safety, while 
she walked to the corner with Susan and Lily, 
after class. Mr. Lemoyne had perhaps found 
out about it, but Susan did not reason about 
this, she felt so sure that it was the minia- 
ture he wanted. 

She must not be a coward. She must save 
it for Holliday. She would so hate to lose 
it. But what could she do? Her heart beat 
so fast she was almost suffocated. Could she 
crawl very softly behind the big chair, and 
then reach the door before he could stop her? 
As she tried to think what to do, she heard 
the sound of boards being pried up. Still 
she was so sure about the miniature that she 
did not stop to wonder at this. 

She moved cautiously forward. Perhaps 
she was a little stiff from sitting so long on her 


THE CHIMNEY CUPBOARD 24<3 

feet, for as she sprang up she struck the dic- 
tionary stand and sent it with a startling bang 
to the floor. Mr. Lemoyne was at the door 
before her, his back against it, looking at her 
with that expression she hated so, that made 
her think of Monsieur Rigaud. 

“ O Lord, please send somebody to help 
me? ” was Susan’s inward exclamation. 
Aloud she said tremulously, ‘‘You mustn’t 
take it. It’s Holliday’s.” 

“ You little fool, I don’t want anything of 
Holliday’s !” he said. “ Listen to me. If you 
will keep quiet and do as I tell you, you have 
nothing to fear; but if you scream. I’ll kill you! 
Hear? ” 

She was such a little girl, and he was a man! 
but Susan wasn’t thinking this. In a flash she 
remembered that Miss Cornelia was at work 
in her flower beds as she passed. If she could 
get to that window and give one scream, — 
the thing she should have done at first, — surely 
somebody would come before he had time to 
kill her. The muslin curtain moved gently. 
The cheerful clatter of the street seemed so 
near. 

All this was in a lightning flash, and at the 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

same time she was praying, “ O Lord, send 
somebody! ” 

Somebody was at hand, but neither Mr. Le- 
moyne nor Susan saw the round eyes peering 
in at the front window where the curtains 
parted ever so little, but where the cross-light 
made things inside quite visible. 

Susan, making a nervous dart towards the 
open window, was conscious of a grip on her 
shoulder, of trying to scream, of falling down, 
down into whirling darkness. 



“SOMEBODY WAS AT HAND.” 
















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CHAPTER XXV 

WHAT WAS WORTH WHILE 

The Reynors’ front lawn was separated 
from that of Christmas Tree House by a vine- 
covered iron fence, along which on the Rey- 
nors’ side was a flower bed, at present bright 
with many-colored tulips. Miss Cornelia, at 
work among them, looked up as her brother 
came in the gate. ‘‘ Did you ever see any- 
thing prettier?” she asked proudly. 

Before he could reply they were both 
startled by the sound of a child’s voice in dis- 
tress. “ Somebody come quick! He’s kill- 
ing Susan! Come quick! He’s killing Susan 
in the school-room!” It was Robin Bright 
who was jumping up and down on the other 
side of the fence, waving his arms in an ecstasy 
of terror. 

Mr. Reynor was by his side in an instant, 
thanks to a pair of long legs. “ What do you 
mean, Robin? Where? ” he cried. 

245 


246 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


Miss Cornelia dropped her trowel and rose 
from her knees, just in time to see them disap- 
pear among the shrubbery. So agonized were 
Robin’s tones, her heart stood still for a mo- 
ment. Something dreadful must have hap- 
pened. Being unable to vault the fence, she 
had to take the longer way round; and as she 
hastened tremblingly along the street to the 
gate of Christmas Tree House, she was 
gripped by the fear that Reggie would be 
killed, too. 

Even in her terror she was conscious of the 
air of stately repose pervading the place. It 
seemed impossible that anything terrible could 
be happening here. As she ran to the base- 
ment door and lifted her hand to ring the bell, 
the door opened; in fact, it was flung open, in 
evident haste, by her boarder. 

So great was her confidence in him, that 
Miss Cornelia’s first sensation was one of re- 
lief, quickly followed however by renewed 
alarm as he brushed roughly past her with- 
out a word. A vague idea that he was going 
for help occurred to her, and was confirmed 
when she reached the open door of the school- 
room and saw her brother bending over Susan, 


WHAT WAS WORTH WHILE 24T 


who lay apparently unconscious on the sofa 
where he had just placed her, a trickle of blood 
on her cheek. 

‘‘ Oh, Reggie, is she badly hurt? How did 
it happen? Mr. Lemoyne has gone for the 
doctor, I think. She has cut her head and 
has fainted. Get me some water.” Miss Cor- 
nelia took command at once. 

And now came Parker and Melinda, sum- 
moned by Robin, and in a few moments more 
Dr. Thomas, who by a lucky chance had been 
calling at the Seymours’, and was seen by Par- 
ker from the door. Miss Cornelia continued 
under the impression that Mr. Lemoyne had 
summoned him. 

Before the doctor reached her side, how- 
ever, Susan had opened her eyes. ‘‘ There, 
now you will be all right,” Miss Cornelia said. 
‘‘ Lie still, dearie. You have had a bad fall 
and cut your head.” 

Susan gazed vaguely about, trying to recall 
what had happened. 

“ Mr. Lemoyne has gone for the doctor,” 
Miss Cornelia added encouragingly. 

At this everything came back with a rush. 


248 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


Susan started up. “ Did he get it? ” she asked 
anxiously. 

“ What’s all this? ” demanded Dr. Thomas, 
coming in. “Susan hurt? What a bump! 
Did you fall downstairs? ” 

“ No — I — he said he would kill me. I ran 
and fell and — ” but now her tears overflowed. 

“ The best thing you can do,” the doctor 
said, sitting beside her and feeling her pulse. 
“ Now let’s see the bump. You must have 
struck the sharp edge of something when you 
fell. By the way, who was going to kill you? ” 

Almost incoherently, Susan sobbed out the 
name. 

“ What! ” cried the doetor. 

“Did he knock you down, Susan?” Mr. 
Beynor asked quietly. 

“ I saw him, Susan,” exclaimed Robin. “ I 
saw him killing you.” 

“ I don’t think he did. I tried to get to the 
window, and tripped and fell. He caught 
my shoulder.” 

“ And you cut your head and fainted,” 
added the doctor. “ But what was the fellow 
up to? ” 

Brokenly, while he attended to her cuf. 


WHAT WAS WORTH WHILE 249 


Susan told her story. Her audience listened 
with varying emotions; Parker and Melinda 
with many exclamations. 

“It is all a terrible mistake,” cried Miss 
Cornelia, but as she said it she recalled the 
strange expression on Mr. Lemoyne’s face as 
he brushed by her. “ Do you mean he is a 
thief? You can’t think that!” She looked 
from her brother to the doctor, in helpless be- 
wilderment. 

“ I don’t know what he was up to, but he 
was at the cupboard when I climbed in at the 
window. These sketching operations have 
been made the cloak for some villainy,” said 
her brother. 

“ Surely not to get possession of Holliday’s 
miniature,” said Dr. Thomas. “ Like Miss 
Cornelia, I scarcely think he was a common 
thief.” 

“ No, rather uncommon, I fancy,” the Poet 
answered. “ I do not say he was after the 
miniature. I am inclined to think Susan mis- 
taken there. Just come and look at this cup- 
board, doctor. See this loose paneling? My 
theory is he was trying to get possession of 
something hidden here. I don’t explain it. I 


250 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


can’t say how he knew there was anything 
here, if there is, but I am convinced that Susan 
prevented the accomplishment of his purpose, 
whatever it was.” 

Dr. Thomas peered into the cupboard curi- 
ously, lifting the loosened boards and feeling 
beneath them. “ There is something there,” 
he said. Well, my advice is to get Mr. Hey- 
wood as soon as you can. In the meantime 
I’ll take Susan home. She’ll turn out to be a 
heroine, first thing you know,” he added, 
laughing. 

When the doctor’s carriage turned the cor- 
ner from which you could see the post office 
clock, Susan was surprised to find it only ten 
minutes after four. It had been three when 
she left the tailor’s, and it seemed hours and 
hours ago. Her head ached and she felt rather 
trembly and excited, but otherwise not much 
the worse for her experience. 

About two hours later she sat in Father’s big 
chair in the dining-room. She wore her pink 
challis, and her bump was plastered up artistic- 
ally. At least Dr. Thomas said it was artistic. 
Wynk was bestowing upon her the solace of 
his society, sitting on the arm of her chair with 


WHAT WAS WORTH WHILE 251 

his paws tucked under him. Through the open 
window the scent of some flowering shrub 
floated in now and then, and from the kitchen 
came the creaking of Silvy’s biscuit machine. 
Susan felt languid and happy. If only she 
could be sure about the miniature, she was 
thinking, when Holliday dashed in. 

‘‘ Why, Susan! ” she cried, falling upon her 
with embraces and — yes, actually, tears! ‘‘I 
thought you would be in bed. I was afraid 
they would not let me see you. You are the 
bravest girl in the world! I always knew it! 
And that horrible man! I can never forgive 
myself.” She paused, out of breath. 

“ I never heard of going to bed just for a 
bump,” Susan said, laughing. “ Mother 
wanted me to. But, oh, Holliday, did he get 
your miniature? ” 

Holliday, who was kneeling before her, sat 
back on her heels. “ It wasn’t in the cupboard, 
Susan. It is safe. I had put it away. I am 
just as much obliged to you, though. But you 
can’t guess what you did save ! ” 

“ What? ” Susan asked eagerly. 

‘‘ The bonds! You saved the bonds, Susan. 
Mrs. Carrol’s bonds!” Holliday spoke sol- 


252 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


emnly, and Susan heard her with silent as- 
tonishment. “ They were hidden in the cup- 
board, under the floor of it. They were in a 
sort of canvas cover and a nail had been driven 
through a corner of this, when the paneling was 
put back. It was that and your being there 
that kept him from getting away with them.” 

“ The bonds? ” Susan repeated, in amaze- 
ment. 

“ Papa thinks he must have been trying in 
one way and another all winter to get them; 
that he must have known and come here for 
the purpose. Mr. Reynor thinks so, too. But 
how he knew about them is a mystery.” 

“ He and Miss Avery must have been talk- 
ing about the bonds,” Susan said thoughtfully. 
“ Why, Holliday, they must be what is worth 
while! ” 

“ Of course,” Holliday agreed. “ ‘ If it 
takes a year.’ I had not thought of that. I’ll 
show Papa those scraps to-night. He is ready 
now to pay some attention to the conversation 
you overheard. You were right about Mr. 
Lemoyne. You said he was a villain.” 

“ No, I only said he looked like one. Where 
is he, Holliday? Will they arrest him?” 


WHAT WAS WORTH WHILE 


25S 


Susan shivered as she rememhered the touch 
of his hand on her shoulder. 

“ He has gone no one knows where. I 
thought of course Papa would put detectives 
on his track, but he says Mr. Lemoyne didn’t 
succeed in getting anything and it would not 
be of any use.” Holliday seemed disappointed 
at such a tame ending. “ He ought to be put 
in prison for the way he treated you,” she 
added. 

The news of the affair spread rapidly, and 
all through the evening people were coming in 
to ask about Susan. She was put to bed im- 
mediately after supper, having had enough 
excitement, her mother said. 

“ Susan, you should never have tried to run 
after he warned you,” her father said after 
hearing the whole story. “ It was foolish, for 
he had you in his power. I know you did not 
stop to think, but — ” 

“ But, Father, I thought he would kill me 
anyway, he seemed so angry,” Susan said. 
“ And I remembered Miss Cornelia was 
near.” 

Susan could not understand the distress of 


254i 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


her father and mother, now it was all so hap- 
pily over. 

“ It is over what might have happened, my 
darling,’’ Mrs. Maxwell said. 

“ It seems to me that is worse than crossing 
bridges before you come to them,” Susan said, 
laughing. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


PUTTING TWO AND TWO TOGETHEB 

“ They have you in the paper, Susan,” her 
father remarked at the breakfast table. 

“ Oh, Frank, not really? I thought you 
asked the reporter not to,” Mrs. Maxwell pro- 
tested. 

“ When we have a heroine in the family, 
Kitty, we must accept the consequent pub- 
licity.” The twinkle in her father’s eye re- 
minded Susan of Joe when he laughed at 
Mother Kitty’s Philadelphia reserve. “ Really 
there is nothing you need mind. They make 
rather a good story out of the whole thing. All 
assertions in regard to our missing friend are 
carefully avoided. It is alleged, and the evi- 
dence seems to point. ‘ That fifteen or 
twenty thousand dollars’ worth of bonds are 
to-day in the hands of the proper authorities is 
no doubt owing to the presence in the school- 
room of Christmas Tree House of Miss Susan 
Maxwell, the daughter of our well-known citi- 
255 


^56 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


zen, Mr. Frank Maxwell, and to the curiosity 
that led Robin Bright, the seven-year-old son 
of the popular rector of St. Mark’s, to peep in 
at the window, at the psychological moment.’ 
Here, Susan, you can read it for yourself.” 

“ I am glad I helped to save the bonds, but 
it is silly to call me a heroine,” Susan said, tak- 
ing the paper. 

“ I think you were very brave, dear,” Mrs. 
Maxwell insisted. 

“ Greatness is thrust upon you, you see,” 
Father added, laughing. 

Susan found the newspaper so interesting 
she could hardly eat her breakfast. The 
past history of Christmas Tree House was 
gone over once more, and the article ended 
with the statement that the bonds had been 
handed over to the National Trust Company, 
where they would be held until Colonel Brand 
was heard from. Nobody who knew the Colo- 
nel would believe that he made a hiding-place 
for his securities in an old chimney cupboard, 
but it was probable that he had a legal right to 
anything found on his premises. 

“ Even if they are the Colonel’s, he will give 
them to the hospital, I’m sure,” Susan said, 


PUTTING TWO AND TWO TOGETHER 257 

putting down the paper. “ Miss Margaret 
would want him to.” 

After breakfast Mrs. Boone and Lily came 
over to ask how Susan was this morning. 
“ Why, you look as bright as a button,” the 
former said, kissing her. “ It makes me shiver 
to think of it. It was a perfectly natural thing 
to do, — going into that room for a book. Who 
would have thought of any danger? It shows 
you can never tell, but I say to you as I say to 
Lily, don’t ever go wandering around big 
houses alone.” 

Susan, did you really faint? ” Lily asked, 
regarding her with envy. ‘‘ I never fainted in 
my life.” 

“ I suppose I did,” Susan owned, “ but it 
was because I hit my head.” 

‘‘ Really she is not half as used up by the 
affair as Cornelia Reynor,” Mrs. Boone con- 
tinued. ‘‘ Cornelia is distressed to death. She 
was really infatuated with that man. One 
minute she blames herself for being so easily 
taken in, and the next she feels sure he could 
explain everything satisfactorily if he had a 
chance. I haven’t a doubt in the world he 
could make up a beautiful story, if he had the 


^58 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


time. I believe Cornelia fears they will cap- 
ture him and bring him back in chains, but I 
doubt if they could make out a case against 
him. At any rate he’s gone, and what’s more 
he owes Cornelia for two months’ board. 
Don’t you breathe that, however. I asked her 
flatly, ‘ Cornelia, tell me honestly, what does 
that man owe you? ’ But she doesn’t want 
Reggie to know. ‘ You see, Cornelia,’ I said, 
‘ Reggie was right after all ; ’ and the funny 
part is,” Mrs. Boone paused to laugh, “ she 
was taking this boarder for his sake. In the 
meantime Reggie turned to and made good, 
as the saying is. I hear they are delighted with 
his work on the paper, and what with tutoring 
and playing the organ and his other writing, he 
has done well this winter, and certainly his 
health is better. I give Anne Mary Grant the 
credit for some of it. They are great friends, 
you know. She’s drawn him out of his shell. 
And — what was I going to say? Oh, yes. 
Reggie has been sweet to Cornelia. Never 
once said ‘ I told you so.’ That to me is an evi- 
dence of character in itself. Is that the car- 
riage, Lily? Let me take you to market, Mrs. 
Maxwell. Lily can stay with Susan,” 


PUTTING TWO AND TWO TOGETHER 259 

As she sat with Lily in the swinging seat on 
the porch, the girls and boys dropped in one 
by one to pay their respects to the heroine and 
talk it over. 

“ What do you think Robin asked me when 
I passed? ’’ said Charlie. “ He wanted to 
know if I didn’t think he ought to be given a 
medal for saving Susan’s life. There’s noth- 
ing backward about him.” 

“ He is very proud of being mentioned in the 
paper,” said Nettie, “ but he wanted Uncle to 
call up the reporter and say that he was going 
on eight — not just seven.” 

“ Let’s fix him up a medal,” suggested Dick. 

The idea took, and one of the boys ran to 
the nearest tin-shop for a piece of bright tin. 
This secured, the morning was spent in the 
manufacture of an imposing medal, with the 
inscription ; 

PRESENTED TO ROBIN BRIGHT 
BY 

THE GRATEFUL FRIENDS OF 
SUSAN MAXWELL 

FOR HIS HEROISM IN SAVING HER LIFE 

Meanwhile the discussion of this latest ad- 


260 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


venture went on. Little by little the whole 
thing grew plainer. 

“ It is like a dissected puzzle/’ said Holliday, 
who was the last arrival. “You look and look, 
and think and think, and suddenly you find 
the piece that fits in. Susan, it flashed into my 
head this morning that Avery was the name 
of the nurse Aline talked about — the one who 
took care of Mrs. Carrol! Papa says if that 
is so, it throws a great deal of light.” 

“ It was, of course. I’m sure of it. I won- 
der why I didn’t think of it!” Susan ex- 
claimed. 

“ What was it you and Susan knew about 
Mr. Lemoyne, and wouldn’t tell? ” asked Net- 
tie. 

This brought out the story of the scraps 
blown into Susan’s lap on the car that day. 

“ I still have them, and I asked Papa if they 
would not be valuable evidence, but he laughed 
at me. He says it would be hard to prove that 
they referred to the bonds,” Holliday added. 

“ You think, then, that Mrs. Carrol must 
have told her nurse where she had hidden the 
bonds, and that the nurse told Mr. Lemoyne? ” 
asked Phil. 


PUTTING TWO AND TWO TOGETHER 261 

‘‘ Yes. Mrs. Carrol began to tell Aline 
something about them, but couldn’t finish. She 
had occasional flashes of memory.” 

‘‘ They hatched it up between them as an 
easy way of getting hold of a lot of money, I 
see.” 

‘‘Do you think Mr. Lemoyne had anything 
to do with the Hallowe’en scare?” inquired 
Dick. 

“ I’ll tell you what I think,” cried Charlie. 
“ The east parlor is over the school-room, don’t 
you know, and perhaps to start out he wasn’t 
quite sure where the cupboard was. He was 
investigating.” 

“ Yes, and turned out the light when he 
heard Susan coming.” Holliday nodded. 
“ It is as plain as anything.” 

“ And don’t you remember, Holliday, the 
burglar the night of the Colonial Tea? Don’t 
you think he undid the catch of that shutter 
under pretense of fastening it, and got in while 
the tea was going on? ” Dick asked. “ After 
that you began to lock the cupboard, so he 
had to steal your key and have one made. 
That is probably what he was at Bell’s for, — 
the hardware place,” said Dick. 


262 CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

“It works out beautifully!” Holliday ex- 
claimed. “We never dreamed of anything 
so interesting as this when we began to write 
our story, did we, Susan? ” 

“We have not much more than begun, as it 
is,” Susan observed. 

“ Well, I think that is fortunate. We can 
see what is really important when we look 
back. And, Susan, we’ll have lots of time this 
summer. I must give Susan the credit of 
seeing through Mr. Lemoyne when I didn’t,” 
Holliday went on. “ She said from the first 
he was a villain.” 

“No, I didn’t. I only didn’t like him, and 
said he looked like Monsieur Rigaud,” said 
Susan. 

“You wanted a villain, and did not recog- 
nize him when you saw him. Isn’t that about 
it? ” Charlie asked. 

“ Yes, I was like the other man, insensee/^ 
Holliday declared impressively. They had all 
been reading the story of the Wise Man in 
French this winter. 

“ She always gets what she wants,” laughed 
Susan. “ I never had an adventure in my life 
till I met her.” 


PUTTING TWO AND TWO TOGETHER 263 

‘‘ What about Clarice? ” asked Nettie. I 
wonder how she feels? It seems to me she was 
the insensee one.” 

“ What do you bet she hasn’t run off with 
him? ” said Charlie. 

“ I think we should have heard of it by this 
time if she had,” answered Holliday. “ But 
I am very sorry for her. It will be a great 
shock to her to find that all his glitter was 
not gold.” 

A marked copy of the paper went out to 
Joe in Colorado. His reply was; “Hurrah 
for Susan Hermione! Didn’t I say she was 
a heroine? ” At the end he added, “ Under 
another cover, as the saying is, I am send- 
ing a little testimonial of my brotherly 
regard.” 

The testimonial arrived by express shortly 
after, and proved to be a little watch. Susan’s 
breath was taken away. 

“Dear, dear! that extravagant boy!” Mrs. 
Maxwell exclaimed. 

“ Isn’t it darling ! ” gasped Susan. 
“Father, do you think he oughtn’t to? Be- 
cause — 

Mr. Maxwell laughed. “It is all right,” 


264 CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

he assured her. ‘‘ It may be extravagant, but 
Joe is doing well and has paid his debts, so 
we must allow him this pleasure. Take it 
and enjoy it, my dear.” 


CHAPTER XXVII 


CLARICE AND MISS GRANT 

New bits of evidence, or of gossip, concern- 
ing the villain, as Holliday now invariably 
called him, continued to crop up for days, and 
even weeks. The Brocade Lady’s son, it 
seemed, had chanced to see Mr. Lemoyne from 
the porch, and was impressed by his resem- 
blance to a certain sharper he had met some- 
where in his wanderings abroad. “ He was 
not positive,” the Brocade Lady said, but un- 
der the circumstances it was significant. 

Miss Avery, it was soon discovered, had left 
Madame Theo abruptly, upon the receipt 
of a telegram. Some investigations in Mobile, 
where she had lived in her childhood, revealed 
the fact that she had a half-brother, a rather 
handsome, good-for-nothing fellow, whose de- 
scription suited Miss Cornelia’s boarder very 
well. 

Miss Cornelia was perhaps the only person 
265 


266 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


who did not now own to certain suspicions of 
Mr. Lemoyne. At times she still felt there 
must be some terrible mistake, which would 
sometime be cleared away, but she knew it was 
silly and kept it to herself. 

It illustrated the power of good manners, 
the Brocade Lady said. He was always cour- 
teous to Cornelia, and seemingly appreciative 
of her kindness. 

“ To the point of leaving without paying his 
board,” remarked Mrs. Boone, scornfully. 

‘‘ I hate it when people are mysterious,” 
Bessie said, joining Holliday and Susan under 
the ginckgo tree one day. It was full of leaves 
now, and its beautiful shade was most grateful 
on a warm May afternoon, 

“ Sit down and tell us your trouble,” was 
Holliday’s invitation. 

Bessie sat on the edge of the rustic chair and 
clasped her hands in her lap. ‘‘ It’s about 
Clarice. Have you heard anything? ” 

“ She is ill at her cousin’s,” Susan said. “ Is 
that what you mean? ” 

“ Everybody knows that. Father is attend- 
ing her. Lily says she has been expelled. Her 
grandmother let it out without meaning to.” 


CLARICE AND MISS GRANT 267 

“ Oh, Bessie ! Do you think it is true ? ” both 
girls exclaimed. 

“ I am not certain, but I think perhaps she 
tried to run away.” 

“You don’t mean with — Why, Bessie!” 
Holliday said, “ I can’t believe it.” 

“ Something I heard Miss Grant say to 
Father made me think so. Something about a 
poor, silly girl, and Father answered that she 
was saved from a worse fate. They stopped 
talking when they saw me. Then I asked Car- 
rie, and she said, ‘ Why, what do you mean, 
Bessie? ’ in a way that made me sure she knew 
something. I hate secret things,” she re- 
peated. 

“ Miss Grant is in the school-room now, 
correcting papers. I am going to ask her,” 
and Holliday sprang up and ran across the 
grass to one of the open school-room windows. 
Returning, she announced, “ She has promised 
to come and tell us about it.” 

Miss Grant might not be a beauty, nor even 
pretty, but certainly she was pleasant to look 
at, as she came toward them a few minutes 
later and took the seat Holliday vacated for 
her beside Susan. Her abundant brown hair 


268 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


had golden lights in it, her freckles only served 
to emphasize the fairness and smoothness of 
her skin and to show how little she cared for 
sun or wind. Her glance was direct and full 
of friendliness. 

“ Holliday says you have heard something 
about Clarice, and if so, it is better you should 
have the whole story, for nothing is worse than 
being left to fancy things.” 

“ I said that to Carrie,” murmured Bessie. 

“ There are two reasons for not saying mucK 
about it. On Clarice’s own accoimt, and for 
the sake of Mrs. Knight.” 

‘‘ Is it true she is expelled? ” Susan 
asked. 

‘‘ She will never go back there, that much 
is certain,” Miss Grant replied. “ This man, 
who, say what we will, took us all in this win- 
ter, gained an almost absolute control over the 
poor girl. She seems to have been ready to do 
anything he told her, and they carried on a se- 
cret corresponden^ce in one way and another 
all winter. Some of her schoolmates say she 
told them she was going to run away with 
him.” 

“ She told me she was going to be married 


CLARICE AND MISS GRANT 


269 


this summer,” Holliday said. “ She was 
dreadfully in love with him.” 

“We cannot tell now whether he was 
simply carrying on a heartless flirtation, or 
really intended to marry her. If he did, his 
failure to get the bonds interfered with his 
plans. All I know about it is this. Mr. Rey- 
nor and I were returning from my aunt’s on 
Deane Avenue the evening following Susan’s 
uncomfortable adventure. We were walking 
in, and were overtaken by a thunder shower, 
which forced us to seek shelter in a drug store. 
We were not far from that small station, where 
you know the trains stop for a moment com- 
ing and going, for the benefit of residents of 
the southern part of town. While we were 
waiting, the outgoing train passed. 

“ It was nearly eleven when the rain al- 
lowed us to leave our refuge, and it was then, 
as we went up a block to take the car, that I 
saw a forlorn, drenched figure shrink away 
from us into the shadow of the trees as we 
passed. I felt sure there was something 
wrong, and turned back to ask if she was in 
trouble, and to my great surprise I recognized 
Clarice Dumont. She broke into hysterical 


g70 CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

crying, and we had a terrible time quieting 
her. I found she had stolen away from the 
school expecting to meet Mr. Lemoyne at the 
little station, which is not very far, you know. 
She had waited in that hard storm almost un- 
protected, for it is scarcely more than a shed, 
and when he did not appear, and the train went 
on, she was quite beside herself with fear and 
not knowing what to do or where to go.” 

“Poor Clarice! What did you do. Miss 
Grant? ” Holliday asked. 

“ Mr. Reynor had to go back to the drug 
store and telephone for a cab, for she was in 
no condition to be on a street car. She pro- 
tested wildly against being taken back to 
school, but it was all we could do. Mrs. Knight 
was very kind, but the next day it was thought 
best to send her to her cousin’s till her mother 
comes. The girl is really very ill. She has 
been living all winter under the strain of an 
unwholesome excitement, and now her nerves 
have gone to pieces. Dr. Mann thinks she will 
have to be taken to a sanitarium for special 
treatment. Now I need not ask you, I am 
sure, not to talk about this, outside.” 

“ Indeed we won’t, Miss Grant,” said Bes- 


CLARICE AND MISS GRANT m 

sie. “ I wonder if she knows he was a 
thief? ’’ 

“ I don’t know what she has been told. In 
that respect she has had a fortunate escape.” 

“ Do you remember, Susan, when I read 
your mother Clarice’s letter, — the one in which 
she told about Mr. Lemoyne first, — she said 
it didn’t sound like the real thing? ” asked 
Holliday. 

“ It is odd,” Miss Grant said thoughtfully, 
“ how your Wise Man applies even to love af- 
fairs. Love like everything else in life must 
have a good foundation. Friendship, respect, 
confidence are necessary, — something more 
than an exciting flirtation.” 

And it fell and great was the fall of it! ’ ” 
Holliday repeated gravely. 

Miss Grant and Eessie went away together, 
leaving the other two in a serious mood. “ I 
hope we shall never be carried away by a false 
glitter,” Holliday said, adding, ‘‘ Do you 
know, Susan, if I were a man I believe I should 
fall in love with Miss Grant? ” 

Later that afternoon, in a friendly conver- 
sation, over the wall, with the Poet, Holliday 
again voiced this sentiment. “You know 


m CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

there is something — well, rather grand, about 
Miss Grant,” she said, “ though that is not 
exactly what I mean.” 

“ Forceful? Commanding? ” suggested Mr. 
Reynor, standing with his hands behind him 
and looking up at her. 

Holliday considered the words thoughtfully. 
“ Yes,” she said, “ she is the sort of person 
who wouldn’t just be sorry for you if you were 
in trouble, but would help you out. She would 
find a way.” 

“ Broadly sympathetic, full of initiative,” 
added the Poet. “ But does it occur to you 
that she is not likely to find any one worthy 
of her? ” 

Holliday had not thought of this. “ Well,” 
she added hopefully, “ perhaps she doesn’t 
care to marry.” 

From the other side of a lattice fence Miss 
Grant overheard this conversation. She had 
been to inquire for Mrs. Seymour, who was 
more ailing than usual, and then had stopped 
on her way back to chat with Miss Cornelia, 
again at work in her garden. They had walked 
about looking at this and that till Miss Reynor 
left her by the lattice while she went into the 


CLARICE AND MISS GRANT 


273 


house for her shears. She wanted to send some 
roses to Mrs. Grant. 

Just as Holliday jumped down, Miss Cor- 
nelia opened the gate. “ Come and talk to 
Reggie,’’ she said. “ I have to speak to the 
plumber. It will be but a moment.” 

‘‘ Miss Holliday and I were just speak- 
ing of you,” the Poet told her, shaking 
hands. 

“ I have to confess I overheard.” Miss 
Grant laughed, and the pleasant glow deep- 
ened in her cheek. 

Then you know listeners do sometimes 
hear good of themselves? ” 

“ Yes, I am much obliged. But it seems I 
am to be left lonely on the heights of superior 
virtue.” 

The Poet stood looking down at her as she 
sat on the garden bench. I could never stand 
side by side with you up there,” he said. “ All 
I could hope to do would be to furnish you 
with an object upon which to exercise those 
virtues.” Then he added, clasping his hands 
nervously, “You have taught me to aspire. 
You must forgive me if I have become pre- 
sumptuous.” 


274 CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

‘‘ Presumptuous, that one of your gifts 
should aspire to a commonplace person like 
me? ” Miss Grant asked, smiling. “ That’s too 
absurd, Reggie.” 

And just then Miss Cornelia returned. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THAT SUMMER 

‘‘ I DON^T expect ever to be an author,” 
Holliday announced with emphasis. “ Writ- 
ing is such hard work. And after all, Susan, 
it is easier to tell a story after everything has 
happened. The Poet says so. I was consult- 
ing him yesterday. He said it was impossible 
to see the relative importance of things at the 
time. I wrote that down at once for fear I’d 
forget it. You have written a lot more than I 
have. I’ll leave you my notes and you can fin- 
ish after I am gone.” 

“ Thank you! I supposed that was what^ 
you were coming to. I think I’ll just tell Miss 
Margaret what we haven’t written,” Stisan re- 
plied. 

“ Oh, Susan, you will see her and I’ll be far 
away! ” Holliday exclaimed sorrowfully. 

Like so many things undertake^ with great 
enthusiasm, the story had gradually become a 
burden and had at times been forgotten alto- 
275 


276 CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

gether. They were always going to have time 
for it, but each season, when it came, was full. 
“ The only way to get time is to take it,” the 
Brocade Lady said. “ You have all the time 
there is.” 

“ I suppose it is true,” Susan observed 
thoughtfully. “ If you do one thing, you have 
to let something else go.” 

“ I always want to do everything,” Holli- 
day cried. 

“ And always think you can,” Susan added. 
Then she asked, “ What do you think is the 
most interesting thing that has happened this 
year? ” 

Holliday looked up into the branches of the 
ginckgo tree. “ I don’t know,” she answered 
thoughtfully. “ You don’t mean the most ex- 
citing? That, of course, was when you kept 
the bonds from being stolen. For myself, I 
believe, Susan, I should say the night of the 
Comus parade, when I got my fan and chain.” 

Susan was surprised. Holliday had not 
mentioned this incident for a long time. 

“ I know now it was Mr. Fortesque, as you 
guessed, Susan. Aunt Clara said so in one 
of her letters to Aunt Nan. Corinne found 


THAT SUMMER 


out. She said, ‘ Don’t tell Holliday, it might 
put notions in her head.’ Aunt Nan forgot, I 
suppose. But anyway that is silly. What do 
you think she meant by notions? I hope I 
am not a silly goose like Clarice. But I do 
think it was an interesting experience, and I 
hope I shall see him some day, — perhaps while 
I am abroad.” 

Susan invariably felt lonesome when Holli- 
day referred to abroad. “ I’ll never say again 
that nothing can happen,” she remarked, “ but 
with you away, and nearly all the boys too, I 
don’t see how life can help being quiet.” 

Vacation, with its long summer days, had 
seemed to promise abundance of time for 
everything. It reached away into the dim fu- 
ture which it was easy to ignore. And now be- 
hold! it was more than half gone already. 

It had been decided that Holliday was to 
go to France in September with her aunt. 
“ To some dreadful school where I shan’t know 
anybody, where I shall never hear my native 
tongue,” she declared tragically. 

To postpone the parting from his daughter 
as long as possible, Mr. Heywood was keep- 
ing Christmas Tree House till the last of Au- 


278 CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

gust. With its high ceilings, wide halls, and 
spacious garden, it was comfortable even in 
hot weather. 

The Seymour house, too, was open. Mrs. 
Seymour dreaded a journey. Marion, she 
said, could go to Newport with her sister, and 
she and Dick would stay at home in peace; 
and so it was arranged. Mrs. Boone said 
home was the place for her in the summer 
time. Give her her own bath tub and her 
carriage. Perhaps in August she might take 
Lily and Charlie to the White Mountains. 
She wanted to make up to Charlie for his dis- 
appointment in the spring. The Maxwells 
had no thought of going, and the Manns 
usually stayed at home ; so the circle remained 
unbroken. It was all on Holliday’s account, 
Charlie said, and certainly all her friends 
did their best to make it a memorable sum- 
mer. 

The time that was to have been given to 
the story went to picnics, excursions up the 
river, and merrymakings of many kinds. At 
the Seymours’ there was a tennis court, and 
croquet at Susan’s and Bessie’s. Aline was 
at home from school, and Miss Arthur made 



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THAT SUMMER 


279 


them welcome at her beautiful country place; 
and by no means least, Christmas Tree House 
had not lost its attractions. '‘We must go on 
creating a pleasant atmosphere till the last 
minute,” Holliday said. 

As everybody discovers, the happier the 
days are, the faster they fly. It was August 
before any one was really used to its being 
July. And now that the time for parting drew 
near, they began to make plans for meeting 
again. 

“ Let’s agree to meet somewhere four or five 
years from now,” Tom Mann suggested one 
evening on the Maxwells’ porch, where they 
had assembled. "We may see each other in 
the meantime, but this will be a special occa- 
sion. We’ll be through college then, and — ” 

" Mercy upon us, we’ll be gentlemen and 
ladies ! ” Charlie exclaimed. 

" Put the ladies first, sir,” said Dick, sternly. 

" Dear me, how far away it seems! ” Holli- 
day said. " Hut I like that idea, Tom. I’ll 
tell you what, let’s write something and put 
it in a box and bury it; then when we meet, 
we can unearth it.” 

" Write what? ” asked Lily. 


280 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


‘‘You are always wanting to write some- 
thing,” said Bessie. 

“Bury it where?” inquired Dick, laugh- 
ing. 

“ Why, write what we mean to be or do, I 
suppose. I haven’t thought it out yet. I’ll 
tell you! You know that old oak with a hol- 
low in it, in the garden, — Christmas Tree 
House garden? That’s the place.” 

“ You won’t be living there,” objected 
Bessie. 

“ Miss Margaret will, and she won’t mind. 
Don’t you think it will be fun? I’ll invite you 
all to supper next Friday night. It will be 
moonlight. I’ll have a box ready and we’ll 
write our plans, or whatever you decide will be 
interesting, after supper, and we’ll put it in 
the oak. We’ll each sign our name. And I 
have thought of another thing. Each of you 
bring your spade. That is enough for now. 
You’ll all come? ” 

“ Hurrah for one more party at Christmas 
Tree House!” cried Charlie, and the rest 
echoed the sentiment. 

“ May I come by for you? ” Dick asked 
of Susan. 


THAT SUMMER 


281 


On the appointed evening, after a merry 
supper, and when the table had been finally 
cleared, pen and ink and a large sheet of paper 
were put before Tom. 

“ You are to be the scribe, for it was your 
suggestion,” Holliday explained. ‘‘ Each one 
is to tell in turn what he or she would like to 
be, and you are to put it down.” 

‘‘Not what you think you ought to want 
to be, but honest,” said Tom. “ Ladies first. 
We’ll begin with our hostess.” 

“ Well,” said Holliday, laughing, “ I want 
to be a great lady of some kind. I want peo- 
ple to admire me, and I want to do a great 
deal of good.” 

“ A queen, for instance? ” asked Charlie. 

“ No, not a queen, but a person of impor- 
tance.” 

“ Put her down a person of importance,” 
said Dick. 

“ She is sure to be that,” Tom remarked 
gallantly. “ Susan, you are next.” 

Susan hesitated. “ I’d like to write stories,” 
she owned. 

“And live in some nice corner,” added 
Holliday. 


282 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


“ A writer,” wrote Tom after Susan’s name. 
“ Now, Bessie.” 

“ I want to be a doctor,” Bessie announced. 

“Why, Tom’s going to be one!” several 
voices exclaimed. 

“ I don’t care,” said Bessie. “ That doesn’t 
make any difference.” 

“ But, Bess — ” Tom began. 

“ Hold on,” said Dick, “ this is what we 
want, and Bessie has a right to want it.” So 
Tom reluctantly wrote his chosen profession 
after his sister’s name. 

Aline, it seemed, had gone back to art, and 
Nettie wished to be a great pianist. 

“ Now, Lily,” said Tom. 

“ I think I’d like to marry a judge,” Lily 
answered, and brought down the house. 

“ This is the first time matrimony has been 
mentioned,” exclaimed Dick. 

“Have you got your eye on him, Lil?” 
asked Charlie. 

“ You needn’t laugh. There are always 
plenty of judges,” said Lily, bridling. 

When Phil announced that he was going to 
be a lawyer, Holliday asked mischievously if 
he couldn’t make it judge. Charlie wanted to 


THAT SUMMER 


283 


be a civil engineer. Dick intended to be a busi- 
ness man, because his father had his heart set 
upon his only son succeeding him as the head 
of the great hardware establishment. “ But 
if it were not for disappointing Father I’d like 
to be a farmer,” he said. 

“ You don’t appreciate your luck,” said 
Phil. 

“ And now,” went on Holliday, “ write that 
we promise to be comrades, to stand by each 
other, to remember the Wise Man, and to meet 
again four years from now, as near this date 
as possible. And in testimony of our deter- 
mination to keep our promise, we will all of 
us place here our little spades to be reclaimed 
whenever the box is opened, if we have been 
true diggers, and herewith sign our names.” 

While Tom wrote obediently, at her dicta- 
tion, Holliday produced a tin box, and into 
it went the document, after it had been duly 
signed, together with the twelve little spades. 
The box was then sealed, wrapped in oil- 
cloth, and tied securely, all under Holliday’s 
direction; and then they adjourned to the 
garden. 

By this time the moon was up, and by its 


284 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


light, assisted by a few matches, they consigned 
the box to its resting-place in the hollow oak. 

** We buried it darkly, at dead of night,*' 

murmured Charlie, but although they laughed 
they all felt rather serious, as they returned to 
the house. It was only a joke, but it empha- 
sized the breaking up of their happy little cir- 
cle. 

‘‘ I have something to show you,” Dick said, 
when he and Susan were walking home; and 
stopping beneath a street light he took from 
his pocket a small piece of cardboard. It was 
red, and Susan recognized a moment later the 
little shoe that had made her Dick’s partner 
at Lily’s party so long ago. 

“ I found it to-day in a book,” he said. ‘‘ I 
suppose you haven’t kept yours? ” 

“ Yes, I have,” Susan owned shily. 

“ Good,” said Dick, “ then we are still part- 
ners, aren’t we? ” 

“Susan, is that you?” called her mother 
from the porch. “ Here is somebody who 
wants to see you.” 

“Yes, Mother,” she answered, and with a 


THAT SUMMER 


285 


good-night to Dick, started up the walk. The 
somebody met her halfway. 

“ Well, Susan Hermione! ” cried a familiar 
voice, ‘‘ but I’m glad to see you! ” 

“Joe! Joe! Is it really you?” 

It really was, at once the same old Joe and 
a much changed Joe, as was evident when the 
united family assembled in the lamp-lighted 
dining-room. He was thinner and browner, 
but more manly. The blue eyes had a steadier 
light in them, but the twinkle remained; there 
was the same hearty, friendly manner, but back 
of it a new poise, born of the self-respect that 
comes from successful battling with difficulties. 

How glad everybody was to see him, and 
how interested he was in everybody he had ever 
known! How proud Father was of him, and 
how much Mother Kitty enjoyed his teasing! 

As for Susan, she found it not quite so hard 
to part from Holliday, with Joe at hand to de- 
clare that next summer he and she would run 
over to France and pay her a visit, even though 
she knew it was just talk. 

“ Stranger things than that have happened, 
Susan Hermione. Deny it if you can,” he told 
her. 


2S6 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


This was of course indisputable. Susan in 
the swinging seat on the porch was watching 
the sunset clouds one afternoon and thinking 
of it. Who could tell? And after all, the un- 
certainty, when you looked at it in one way, 
made life the more interesting. Just then, 
where the rose tints of the evening sky melted 
into the violet, the first star shone out. 

** Star light, star bright,^' 

Susan began. Then, gazing at those far-away 
twinkling points of light, she lost herself in 
memories of Elsie, in thoughts of Holliday 
and Dick, in dreams of what might happen, so 
that before she reached the end of her rhyme, 
there was another star I 


BOOKS BY MARY F. LEONARD 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 

“A good book to put oa the list of Christmas presents to 
give any girl between ten and fifteen years old.”— /itwmcon Club 
IV omen. 

CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

This sequel to “Everyday Susan” carries on the same pleasant 
circle of young people with whom we became acquainted in the 
former book, and narrates the numerous adventures centering 
about the romantic mansion known as Christmas Tree House. 

Each) illustrated, 8vo, $1.50 postpaid 


THE STORY OF THE BIG FRONT DOOR 

“We have given this book to several bright children, and 
they have all said, ‘It’s just splendid!’ ” — The Church. 

HOW THE TWO ENDS MET 

“A charming story for children, permeated by a wholesome 
spirit of kindness.” — St. Paul Dispatch. 

IT ALL CAME TRUE 

“A story for the little girls, simply told and sure to be inter- 
esting.” — Pilgrim Teacher. 

Each, illustrated, 12mo, 75 cents postpaid 


THE CANDLE AND THE CAT 

“A brightly written book. Entertaining and wholesome.” 

— Los Angeles Herald. 


HALF A DOZEN THINKING CAPS 

“What a youthful college graduate can do in bringing un- 
tamed youngsters under training is told with much spirit and 
good nature.” — The Dial. 

Each, with frontispiece, 8vo, 50 cents postpaid 


THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 



THE “DOROTHY BROOKE” BOOKS 

By FRANCES CAMPBELL SPARHAWK 


DOROTHY BROOKE’S SCHOOL DAYS 

“Much of the charm that has made Miss Alcott’s stories dear 
to the hearts of two or three generations of girls is in a beautiful 
new story by Miss Sparhawk. Girls, and girls’ mothers, will be 
equally glad to get hold of ‘Dorothy Brooke’s School Days.’ 
. . . The story is perhaps the best girls’ story in a decade.’’ 

— San Francisco Globe. 


DOROTHY BROOKE^S VACATION 

“A good school-girls’ book is always in demand, is always 
needed. School-girls are always with us. Most of them will read 
stories, and whoever provides parents, teachers, and librarians 
with a wholesome story that every girl will delight to read renders 
the home and school a noble service. . . . ‘Dorothy Brooke’s 
Vacation’ is all that girls, teachers, and mothers can ask.” 

— Dr. A. E. W inship. 

DOROTHY BROOKE’S EXPERIMENTS 

“Neither an old-fashioned account of intellectual development 
nor an up-to-date sketch of trifling contests and crushes. It is 
a very strong unfolding of situations that any college girl must 
meet in life, not simply in term time, but in vacation.” 

— Hartford Post. 

DOROTHY BROOKE AT RIDGEMORE 

“A book about college life that girls will be glad to read and 
re-read, and it is well worth it .” — Albany Evening Journal. 

DOROTHY BROOKE ACROSS THE SEA 

The adventures of the heroine and various old friends, and some 
new ones, during a trip abroad. This last book, with its great 
variety of incident, its entirely fresh scenes, and its host of inter- 
esting characters, will perhaps prove most attractive of all the 
volumes in this widely known series. 


Each, volume, cloth, 8vo, $1.50 
Illustrations by Frank T. Merrill 


THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 



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OCT 11 1913 


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